#i’m still not watching hotd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seafarersdream · 5 months ago

Note

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

#hotd #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #freddie fox #freddie fox x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne fanfic #hotd gwayne #gwayne x alicent #gwayne x you #ser gwayne hightower

1K notes · View notes

temporarily-your-saint · 6 months ago

Text

Dull Blades

benjicot blackwood & targaryen oc

UPDATED! First chunk of this just? Disappeared??? So, edited it to include the missing first part!

warnings: angst?? no warnings, really? fluff & drabble for now & soft ben ~

I got this idea for a drabble from S2 of GOT when Catelyn Stark finds her son in disarray after hearing of his father. After watching the last couple episodes of HOTD (and reading Fire and Blood recently), it’s hard not to think about all of the heartbreak between the two sides. This little drabble follows an OC I’m creating, Rhaenala, having a moment to really feel and let out her frustration and sadness. She wanders off to the woods on her own once settling into the Riverlands only to then be discovered by a certain Blackwood. Also, I know, I know, okay! I know our boy didn’t turn out to be our boy, BUT LET ME COPE, OKAY. : ‘ )

Also, part 1??? Thinking about making a second part to this…

—

Swing after swing the blade got duller and even more damaged. The log had had it. She couldn’t help it though. Everything was falling apart as she knew it. Her house, her family, everything. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

Her breath heaved as she swung her sword. In the distance, she could hear footsteps brushing along the grass and leather moving against each other as a voice called out.

She wiped her eyes, removing all evidence of frustrated tears.

“Hey!” She heard the voice as it got closer. It was a husky voice, perhaps a young lad.

“Hey! Princess!” Lilac eyes snapped up to meet the unknown voice. Her chest rose up and down quickly as she leaned over to rest. Who was this? This lanky, dark-haired man? Rhaelana was stunned by his boldness yet captivated.

Piercing familiar eyes met hers. “We need that sword, Princess. We need every sword necessary to end every life that defends the usurper. And…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning the blade in her hands. “You’re letting that one go to waste,” he finished his sentence softly as he slowly approached closer.

Blackwood. Benjicot Blackwood.

She remembered now. Head of House Blackwood. How could she be so dense?

The princess was sent by her mother to aid their allies with the battle against the Lannister army. Benjicot had sent ravens to the queen not long before asking for aid, so Rhaelana was drafted with Valax, her grown dragon with black onyx scales. The two were a formidable pair and more than capable of assisting their Riverland allies.

Her mouth parted with a bewildered cackle, laughing uncontrollably out loud. She couldn’t help it. This truly was a sightly scene for the young lord to find his princess, wasn’t it?

She sheathed the sword as she stood upright. “My apologies, my lord. I shall be more mindful,” her voice quivered on the last word, almost making her lose her composure. He could see that, of course. It wasn’t difficult to see that she was hurting, being torn apart in every direction. Most of all, she was grieving. Grieving for those that were already lost. Grieving for those that would welcome death soon enough. And what better way to let go than by hitting something? Oh, Benjicot knew that feeling all too well.

“Princess?” He continued to walk towards her, stepping slowly only inches apart now as they stood in front of each other.

“I should be going now. There’s people expecting me and—“ But as she began to step past him, an arm reached out, hand wrapping itself around her wrist.

“I wept,” he began to speak, answering the puzzled look on the princess’s face. “The first time I lay eyes on all the bodies. It was my first time on a battlefield and afterward I felt nothing but sorrow.” His words hung heavy in the air. “War is war, princess. And with family? I dare not imagine. But you have us. You have me,” he spoke softly while searching her eyes.

The young lord realized he still held her wrist and released her, snapping the princess harshly back into reality as he let her go.

“Benjicot Blackwood,” she spoke his name sternly. The young man straightened up, gaze never faltering hers.

“Thank you. I hope to see you at the meeting,” a hopeful gleam shined in her eyes as she spoke. Her body then glided past him, her shoulder brushing his arm as she passed.

The current state of her family was doomed. But her mother’s rightful place on the throne didn’t have to be. No, she was going to fight. She was going to fight with any and every weapon possible, dull or not.

A smile danced at the corner of the young lord’s lips as she passed by. His head bowed for a moment as he responded, “Of course, princess.”

Her figure walked away from him, towards the direction of camp. If there was one thing for certain, Ben knew they’d succeed with the princess at their aid. He recognized the look in her eyes all too well. The princess was proving to be all the more captivating than he could have hoped.

428 notes · View notes

dedicatednotobsessed · 1 month ago

Text

Man of the Year [Ewan Mitchell x Wife!Reader]

Other HOTD stories

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Summary: Although I’m not taking actor requests anymore, I am so proud of Ewan for being an honoree for British GQ’s Man of the Year. So please enjoy this 574 word lil drabble. 💚

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You ran a brush through your hair as you stood in the hotel bathroom, makeup-free and already wearing one of your husband’s t-shirts, ready for bed. A small smile filled your features, hearing your four-year-old daughter’s voice through the phone, talking about how much she missed you and Ewan.

You were staying in a hotel, having traveled to London for GQ’s Man of the Year event at the Roof Gardens. You were proud of Ewan, having watched his career grow and how hard he worked to get where he is today. You first met him on the set of Netflix’s The Last Kingdom, playing his opposite, Fianna*. The two of you stayed close friends. Ewan helped you through your pregnancy with Evelyn when your boyfriend left, and he helped you get the role of his wife, Adryana Targaryen*, in HBO’s House of the Dragon.

In between seasons, you and Ewan became a couple. Nearly a year later, the two of you became husband and wife, and Ewan adopted Evie as his own; she was already his father more than her biological father was.

“Am I going to see you and Mommy tomorrow?” You heard Evie whine as you walked out, leaning against the bathroom doorway, a giggle passing your lips.

Ewan chuckled. “Of course, princess. Now tell your grandmother to stop giving you sugar and head to bed, okay? Mommy and I love you and miss you and Ellie very much.”

You walked closer after he blew kisses and hung up, relaxing in his lap as he threw his phone to the side. “As much as I love our girls, I’m glad we had this night alone,” you said softly, fingers running through his blonde hair that still had some bleach from June. It felt like you hadn’t had a night alone in over a year, having given birth a couple of months ago to your second daughter, Eleanor.

Ewan hummed, his hands instinctively going to your waist, rubbing your sides gently while he looked up at you with his shining blue eyes. “We do deserve a night to ourselves, don’t we?” He asked with furrowed brows.

You moved your hands to his cheek, nodding, your smile widening. “Did I already tell you how proud I am of you?”

“About a hundred times,” he replied teasingly.

You leaned your head against his. “Well, make it a hundred and one. Being an honoree is an accomplishment,” you whispered. “But you will always be the man of the year to me.” You pulled back with a hum. “And we should celebrate.”

Ewan raised his brows in curiosity. “Oh?”

You nodded. “With a giant pizza from room service,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned your smirk, pinching your side lightly. “Such a tease,” he whispered, pulling you close for a kiss.

You returned his kiss, placing your hands on Ewan’s chest to pull away. “We have two different definitions of celebrating, but I’m hungry,” you told him with a pout.

He chuckled, keeping one arm around you as he reached to pick up the hotel phone. “Fine, we can do both celebrations then.”

You smiled wide, leaning down to pepper his face with kisses. “Thank you, man of the year.”

Ewan only gave you a charming smile and leaned up, giving you one more soft kiss before he called the downstairs restaurant, ordering a bottle of champagne and a large pepperoni pizza to begin the celebrations.

*Fianna and Adryana are my OCs for Osferth and Aemond, respectfully. 💚

209 notes · View notes

imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 months ago

Text

The Prince - Chapter Five

A/N: First Sunday without a new hotd episode, how are we feeling? Hopefully, this fic can help fill that hotd void. Once again, thank you so much for all of your comments, likes, and reblogs on the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one, too <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Synopsis: In Jace's absence, the reader contends with their feelings, finally coming to the realization that these feelings aren't going away.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecouny, @burningwitchobject, @brckenmemories, @thenotesapppoet, @elleclairez

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Tension hangs in the air throughout the entire Keep the next morning. As you walk down the halls towards Rhaena’s room, you hear hushed discussions, spot worried faces, and fear slowly creeps over you.

The first thing you hear when you get to Rhaena’s room is her hushed tone saying, “He’ll be fine.” You feel as though you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be, and try to walk back out, but Baela spots you and waves you in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say.

“You didn’t,” Baela says.

“Is everything alright?”

“There is unrest in the Iron Islands,” Rhaena says. “It seems the Lannisters and a few lords of the Iron Islands have been fighting over territory.”

“It is an uprising,” Baela corrects. “And the queen has sent Jace to attend to it.”

“Tend to it?” you ask quietly, panic icing your body.

“He’s going to be fine,” Rhaena says, looking to her sister.

“I know,” she says softly.

“He might not see any battle,” she says. “We don’t yet know what the status is.” They both look equally concerned for Jace, and you hate that you can’t share your own concern with them.

He had come to your room last night, and with a horrifying realization, you know he was coming to tell you goodbye. He had been trying to tell you he was leaving, and you had denied him.

“He’ll be fine,” you agree aloud, because he is your prince and that’s what everyone must say when the heir is in danger; but also because you need to believe it for yourself, too.

In the coming days, rumors spread. Some claim there is absolutely no warring in the islands, just quarrels between land-hungry lords. Others say it is bloodshed comparable to the peaks of the war. And there are those who declare it is all a ruse to solidify the crown's position.

None of it makes you feel any better. There is, however, the bitter hope inside of you that Lord Blacktyde is somehow involved and might be taken out by an arrow or swing of a sword, if fighting has indeed broke out. But your thoughts can’t rest there for long, so stuck on Jace are they.

You keep playing over what happened in the Dragonpit, how you left things. It seemed the right thing to do, albeit painful. There was no future for you and Jace, giving in to it for even a day would doom you for the rest of your life.

You try to throw yourself into other tasks. You embroider a dress for Jeyne, go to the coast with Rhaena to watch her bond with Morning, and keep your meetings with more suitors.

There is one such suitor, a Ser Swann, who you have met with twice before. He is kind, can sometimes make you laugh, and is by far the best candidate. But when he looks at you, when his hand brushes yours, you feel nothing.

You remember how you clung to Jace in the Dragonpit, the easy way he held you and made you feel safe. Even just the feeling of your hand in his sent a spark through you. You hate to compare the two men, but every interaction with Jace, even just a passing meeting in the hallway, left your heart racing.

During your date with Ser Swann, these thoughts never leave you. Everything he does, you imagine from someone else's lips, someone else's hand. That night, as you lay in bed, you toss and turn. It has been five days since Jacaerys left, and still, you cannot get him out of your thoughts.

Why did you refuse him entry? Why did you drop his hand? Why didn’t you kiss him, just once?

Jace had created plenty of opportunity for the two of you to kiss. He had sat next to you in this very bed, taken care of you, seen you at your lowest, and still he wanted to kiss you. He brought you to spar with him, clearly seeing the way you were longing for him, and kept you close to him, to see if you would finally act. In the gardens and in the Dragonpit, he had held your body to his, kept you safe, and yet, you pushed him away.

What was wrong with you?

He will return from the Iron Islands, you know. You have to believe. But the chance you might have had with him, you fear is quickly dwindling away.

You had told him he would ruin you, if you gave into your desires. But the truth was, he already had ruined you. You know that now. Ser Swann was a perfectly fine gentleman, and you could have been happy with him, if you didn’t know that there was better.

You are ruined for any other man, because every other man is not him.

You get very little sleep that night. When Brigitta comes in the next morning to wake you, you are already up, exhaustion written over your face.

“My lady,” she says, slightly in chaste, but also in concern.

“I’m fine, Brigitta. Nothing a cup of tea won’t fix.” She is silent as she prepares the tea for you, but when she brings it over, there is a note left next to the mug.

“He left that for you,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to read it or not, but I think you better.”

“Thank you,” you say, forgetting the tea altogether as you rip open the seal. Brigitta gives you a moment's privacy and goes about getting your outfit ready for the day.

Y/N – I am sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Do not worry for me, I promise I will return safely. I hope that the time I am gone will be enough space for you, as I would very much like to continue our conversation from the Dragonpit, if you’ll grant me such leave.

Yours, Jace

“Are you ready, My Lady?” Brigitta asks. You aren’t sure if she's referring to something in the note, the dress she holds in her hand, or something else, but the letter has given you a new sense of purpose.

“I am.”

As she gets you ready, Brigitta lets you know that the flowers in the gardens have bloomed and recommends that you see them for yourself today. You had forgotten to find a task for the day, and you’re thankful for her idea.

You are making your way towards the gardens, when he comes around the opposite hallway.

“Prince Jacaerys,” you say, stopping abruptly in the hallway. Your knees wobble, nearly knocking you to the floor, seeing him in one piece. “I didn’t realize you had returned.”

“Just,” he says. You take a moment to look him over, checking for any visible injuries.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see you that night,” you say, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your gown. Jace frowns at you, frowns at the movement. He glances at the guards following him and nods them away. You watch them slip into the nearest door.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, “You wanted to be left alone.”

“I did say that,” you say, “But if you are heading into dangerous territory, of course I would want to know, want to hear you out,” you say with a shake of your head.

“Needless to remind you, Y/N, I’m a prince,” he says, “Often I am sent to do dangerous things.”

“Of course,” you say with a tight-lipped smile. Sudden frustration fills your bloodstream at his cool demeanor. He has never acted this closed off with you and you aren't sure how to navigate through it. The courage you had felt when you left your room seems to be fading quickly.

“I got your letter,” you say weakly.

“Good,” he says, glancing down at his boots. There is a strange silence, that is so unlike the two of you. He is nervous, angry with with you, or just over his feelings? This behavior from him is so unexpected, you want to run away before you do something embarrassing.

“Well, welcome home, Your Highness,” you say stiffly.

“You sound as though you were worried for me,” he says, before you can turn from him. You meet his eyes, and somewhere in them, you see the Jace you know.

“You are the future of the realm, of course I worry for you,” you say. Jace lets out a tut of laughter, closing some of the distance between the two of you.

“Of course,” he says to himself. “Is that all?” he asks, his eyes locking with yours again.

“What?”

“Is that the only reason you worried?”

“Jace,” you say, your voice barely a breath.

“I hate it when you call me anything other than Jace,” he says with a smile. At the sight of that smile, ridiculously, your breathing turns shallow. You watch Jace’s eyes fall to your chest, watching the rise and fall of your breasts. You realize how close he has gotten to you, how close you’ve allowed him to get.

“I could have died, I very nearly almost did,” he says lowly. Your eyebrows scrunch in worry, and Jace brushes your hair out of your face, his hand cupping your cheek. “Because I know you, I know you must have thought about if I did. You must have thought about regrets, what you would do if you ever saw me again.”

“Jace,” you try again, putting a hand on his chest, partially to push him away, and also to feel him, feel his beating heart. He is right and he knows it. He has grown to know you so well in the last weeks. Every night, you played this moment over in your mind again and again, what you would do when you saw him again.

“Y/N,” he says, just as soft.

“I didn’t worry too much,” you whisper, lying, “You told me you’d return.” Jace’s eyes flick between yours and your lips.

“You believed me?” he asks lowly.

“Yes,” you say, realizing that it was easy. You trust him and believe in him. Up until the Dragonpit, you had truly thought that his feelings were based purely on attraction. But seeing him now, looking into his eyes, you know he was telling the truth. It’s love in his eyes, and a weight lifts off you when you realize the same feeling is inside you, too. You love him, and in that moment, you know that no matter what comes, you want him, for as long as you can have him.

“Was this enough time apart?” he asks with a smile, “I’m not sure I can—”

“Yes,” you say, and before Jace gets the chance to say anything, your lips finally, finally meet his. His lips are soft, and it only takes a moment for him to shake his shock and take control of the kiss. You very nearly moan as he does, seamlessly pinning you against the wall.

Your hands are on his face, in his hair, anything to pull him closer. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you do moan. The sound elicits a similar one from Jace, and he presses you firmer into the wall. His rough hands trail down your sides, gripping your waist, holding you flush against him. In that moment, you would have let him touch you anywhere and everywhere, just to keep him close to you, keep him alive.

A throat clears at the end of the hallway, and you snap back to your senses, breaking away from each other. You take a healthy step back from him and adjust your dress. Jace is breathing heavily, a beautiful smile on his face.

A glance down the hall reveals a white cloak, just a shoulder standing outside of the doorframe. You assume it’s Ser Harrold, thankfully bringing you both to your senses.

You look at Jace and both laugh when his eyes meet yours. He moves closer to you, and takes your hand, placing a gentle, but far too long to be proper, kiss to it. You take a shaky breath at the look in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I love you,” you say gently. Jace’s eyes widen, and he looks to be in physical pain that he can’t kiss you again. He just smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Lady Y/N,” he says.

“I’m just happy you’ve returned.”

“As am I,” he says. He nods down the hallway, holding out an arm for you. You take it, your pulse quickening at the closeness of your bodies. You look up at him, seeing the smile on his lips, the slight pink tint to them from your kiss.

“I need to see my mother, tell her about my journey,” he says, continuing the walk down the hallway, “But I want to see you as soon as possible. Will you join me for supper tonight? In my quarters.”

“Jace,” you start. He looks down at you, a smile growing on his face.

“Please.”

You can only nod your head. He smiles and breaks from your side, leaving you cold. He kisses your hand once again.

“My chambers, just after sunset,” he says.

“Yes.”

It is dark in his room when you arrive. This shouldn’t surprise you; he invited you after sunset. But in the dark, you aren’t sure what you’ll do. You broke all conduct and kissed him in daylight, with several guards within earshot.

Candles are strewn about his room. Soft light illuminates Jace in the corner, adjusting his shirt nervously in the mirror. In the reflection, he sees you, and a smile grows on his face.

He crosses the room in two strides and rest his hands on your waist. His lips are gentle when they meet yours. You push him off at the first brush, looking around the room anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tugging at your waist slightly to have you face him. “I dismissed all the servants. Ser Harold is the only one at the door. He has already promised his secrecy.” You let out a sigh, smiling at him as you trace his jawline with your finger. He closes the gap between the two of you again, and you don’t pull away this time.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, resting his forehead against yours when he breaks away.

“Me too,” you say with a laugh. Jace kisses you again before taking your hand and leading you over to his table. A small feast is laid out before you. Jace pulls out a chair for you, pushing you in with ease.

“I hope wine is alright,” he says, pouring some into your goblet. “I know the mead we had before didn’t agree with you.”

“Wine is wonderful,” you say, “And I don’t think it was the mead that made me sick.”

“What then?” he asks, sitting across from you.

“Feelings I was trying to fight,” you say.

“You don’t seem to be fighting them anymore."

“I don’t think it’s a battle I can win. Or even want to win," you say, taking a sip of the sweet wine.

“And you came to this realization while I was gone?” he asks, drinking from his own glass. Your eyes watch the movement along his neck greedily.

“Before you left, I said that you would ruin me, if we gave into this feeling between us.”

“I remember,” he says, setting his jaw. You reach across the small table and take his hand, your thumb brushing against his skin.

“But while you were gone, I realized you already had ruined me. Ruined every other man for me. You infiltrated my mind and my heart, Jace. If I can only have you for a day, I’ll take it, rather than live my life with regret.”

“It won’t be just a day," he says, gripping your hand firmly, his eyes wide with emotion.

“I hope so.”

“I am still talking with my mother. We will find a way to keep us together.”

“I believe you,” you say, “But I don’t want to talk about the future anymore, uncertain as it is. I just want to be here with you tonight.”

Fuck, he could stay like this forever: his hands wrapped around your waist, yours on his shoulders, your soft lips locked with his. The evening had progressed to a couch in his chambers – neither of you ready to move to the bed just yet.

He had wanted this for so long, had imagined it a hundred times over. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine you wanting him just as much. Never did he believe you would love him, too. And never did he imagine that kissing you would feel this good.

Your hand cups his jaw, drawing him closer. Your chest presses against his. He wants to pull you in, wants your bodies to become one, but he reminds himself that this is just the first night. There will be more to come.

“Jace,” you say, breaking away to catch your breath. He is not so eager to break contact. His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you into his lap.

“Yes?” he says against your neck, his mouth traveling down the slender column. You breathe shakily, your body pressing into his when his tongue glides over the sensitive skin at your collarbone. He hums happily, exploring which parts make you press into him, which make you whimper.

“Jace,” you say again.

“Yes, Y/N?” he says, smiling against your molten skin.

“It’s getting late,” you say, whining when he bites softly, careful to not leave a mark. “I need to get back to my own chambers.”

“But there’s so much I’ve yet to explore,” he says, looking at you. Your pupils are blown wide, a sight that fills him with male satisfaction. He tastes your lips softly, in between smiles.

“Like what?” you ask. A wicked look passes over his face.

“Well,” he says, “Here.” He kisses the hinge of your jaw, relishing the arch of your back at his actions.

“Here.” He bites gently on your ear lobe.

“Jace,” you gasp.

“And I didn’t even get to these,” he says, his hand cupping your breast. “You have no idea how much I love these.”

Despite what you said, you kiss him again, falling back onto the couch as he continues to palm your breasts. His hands move down to your hips, gripping tightly, and holding you flush against him. But never any further than that.

You stay there for a long while. Each time you suggest that you need to leave, Jace manages to convince you to stay. Eventually though, you extract yourself from underneath him. For a moment, you just look at each other, the flushed skin, the clothes that hang awkwardly.

“I love you,” he says, smiling at you as you try to bring some semblance of order to your unruly hair. You look over at him, a soft smile on your own face.

“I’m glad for it,” you say. You stand, tugging at your dress, before presenting yourself to Jace. “How do I look?” you ask.

“Gorgeous,” he says, taking your hand, kissing up your arm.

“I mean,” you say with a laugh, pulling your arm from him, “Do I look presentable?” He stands and looks you over for a long moment, making you shake your head. He snakes his arm around your waist.

“You do,” he says, kissing your lips softly. Your arms wrap around him again, and for a second, he thinks he might convince you to stay. But you hum against his mouth and pull away. Your hand rests on his chest as you catch your breath.

“Stop doing that,” you say with a laugh.

“Doing what?”

“Making me want to stay.”

“Maybe,” he says, gripping your hips, pulling you against him. He knows you can feel how much he wants you, how much he has wanted you all night. “You should just stay.”

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Another reason to stay.”

“Brigitta will be expecting me.”

“Maids are good at keeping secrets,” he says, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him gently. It’s the millionth time you’ve kissed him today, but still, each time feels like the first. Like it’s air, like it’s a touch he's waited for his whole life. “I have to go.”

“Let me walk you to your chambers at least,” he says as you pull from his grasp. His hand reaches for yours and trails out of it as you keep moving.

“I think I can make it on my own.”

“It’s late, you never know who might be prowling around the castle.”

“All the more reason to keep you protected, Your Highness,” you say, back resting against his door. Jace smiles, the title now feeling like a joke between the two of you, instead of propriety.

“I really can’t convince you to stay, can I?” he asks. You shake your head at him, a small smile on your face. “Very well.” He makes to open the door, but his hand instead rests against it, the other wraps around your waist, bringing your lips to his again. You gasp into the kiss, the sound making Jace practically feral with need. He holds you for a long while before you put a hand to his chest, bringing you both back to the present moment.

“Goodnight, Jace,” you say.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, reluctantly opening the door for you. Ser Harrold is stationed there still, and Jace feels a modicum of shame that the knight probably heard the last bit of your conversation. You exchange a look with him, your cheeks red with embarrassment, and you both laugh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“I look forward to it, My Prince.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction

324 notes · View notes

spicy30 · 2 months ago

Text

Modernness of 1400s 004

Pairing: HOTD x Fem!Modern!Reader

Extra: The reader is noted to be bilingual (Spanish speaking) and is familiar with the majority of Latin-based languages, No use of Y/N

cw: suggestive themes

Rating: 18+

Not proofread

Tags: @fan-goddess @meowmeowmothermeower @bunxia @your-favorite-god @coolalienstatesmansports @qwerrtsworld @wegottastayfocus @dakota-rain666 @talilosha

WC: 10.7K

Your nails dug into your palms and your jaw was clenched. It was silent as you and Aemond walked beside each other.

“Was my uncle the one to strike you?” Aemond asked beside you and your eyes twitched at the mention of your latest humiliation.

“What do you think?” You spat out not even bothering to look at him as you stormed down the hall. Only one whole day here and you had gotten bitch slapped and then humiliated in front of potential boy toys. It was unacceptable! Not to mention you hadn’t eaten anything because you were scared that you would contract something.

“Yes, Daemon backhanded me, and then he-” You took a deep breath calming yourself. It’s not cute when you get mad. “Sorry. Yes, Prince Daemon was the one to strike me as you say.” You turned to face Aemond who had no expression on his face. It unnerved you.

“Why?” Was all he said before walking beside you at a slower pace.

“Because I’m not a messiah, or a saint, or whatever it is you guys have here to perform miracles. What do I look like saving someone without an eye-” Oooh, yikes. You cringed at your wording suddenly remembering Aemond had an eye patch. “Sorry.”

Aemond didn’t acknowledge your apology. In fact he didn’t say anything. What went on in that head, you couldn’t say. The man never let out anything but a smile that always looked condescending.

You cleared your throat to speak again instead of being in the awkward silence. “Anyways, he told me if I couldn’t heal him, he’d kill me. I told him there wasn’t much I could do and he was going to chop off my head and I stopped him, then he backhanded me.”

“You? You stopped my uncle?” You could hear just a little bit of surprise in his voice and for some reason it filled you with pride to know you could evoke something like that out of him.

You smiled towards him and you felt your cut split open once more. “Why do you think he had those bandages on his hand?”

As you reached your chamber doors, you both stood looking at each other. That small smirk on his face he always had now slightly more pronounced and of course you with an innocent little smile while blood coated your bottom lip.

“Well, thank you for walking me to my…” You fought the urge to say room. “Chambers.” You let a small silence fall before taking a deep breath and looking at him with a sincere expression. “And thank you, for pulling me away from Daemon.” You opened your doors and before you stepped inside once more you looked back towards the Prince with a small smile. “Goodnight Prince Aemond.”

“Goodnight my lady.” He gave a nod before you turned away, closing the door. Walking inside the candle-lit room you sat down. It smelled like candle wax and not the good kind here, you needed to circulate the air but if you opened the window it’d smell terrible because people here lacked basic hygiene and still throw their bodily fluids outside windows.

Like really? Out of all the places, you somehow ended up in medieval times? It couldn’t have been during Roman times when there were aqueducts and running water, public bathhouses, and a pretty good sewer system?

You sighed and sat down on a chair refusing to touch your bed until you were out of this dress. You looked around your room or chambers as they called them here. Standing up you went to the window touching the curtains. Well at the very least they had good windows. Opening up the curtains you watched the lights of the city.

What were you doing here? What could you do here? Why were they keeping you around? Did they really think you were some sort of god-sent messenger? You already couldn’t heal the king and Daemon made it more than clear that he was willing to kill you. Would others?

You just wanted to go home. You felt as if you were going mad without music. You’d kill to listen to some modern music but if you did your battery would go down and wasting the only thing you had left from where you came from and wasting it on music was not something you were going to do.

“Oh god, I can’t.” You sighed out in frustration. The smell of candles was provoking a headache. Bad enough you were sensitive to smell, but now living in a smelly city!? God you just couldn’t! Walking away from the window you opened the doors. “Oh!” You let out a small yelp.

Queen Alicent and her father stood there seemingly ready to knock. “Your grace, my lord.” You nodded, greeting both. “Please come in.” You invited them in and both entered as you closed the door.

You cringed internally hoping your room wasn’t too messy. Your suitcase lay open showing countless bottles of shampoo, soaps, and conditioner among other things.

“Sorry for the mess, I was not expecting visitors.” You spoke as you quickly went to close your suitcase. “You turned and smiled and fought the urge to hiss as you felt your lip crack again. Had to apply something to it.

“How may I help you?” You asked as you gestured for them to sit down and you sat on the side of the table. (Was it a coffee table or a tea table? Did coffee exist here?)

“I do hope you have been enjoying your stay here…” Otto trailed looking around your room. He spoke with such a tone that it made you sit up right. “You seem to have taken quite well with your quarters.” He made an off comment as he looked towards your clothes which lay on the ground.

“I have, and I am grateful for the crown’s hospitality.” It was clear what the implication was. The only problem was that in all honesty, you were not one to enjoy such word games. You lost your temper too quickly, but here you were a guest, you had to comply with whatever rules they had. “Should there be a day the Crown may have use for certain knowledge I possess I would be most happy to oblige.” This is probably the most formal you have ever spoken to since arriving here, but it was necessary.

“Good, now earlier today you spoke of genetics I believe.” You nodded. “You said it determines offspring coloring…”

“Yes the phenotypes and genotypes, is there someone who you would wish to know their parentage?” You knew bastards were unwelcome here but to go as far as this?

“How accurate would you say you can get the answer?”

“It depends on how much information I can attain. I would need the appearances of as many relatives. Mother, father, alleged fathers, alleged mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers and so on. The more the better. My method is considered extremely accurate. I can give the possibilities of the phenotypes that a child would have depending on the parents, this of course can also be used to prove…” You leaned forward and looked through your lashes towards the father and daughter. “Bastardy, if one so wished of course.”

“Such information is sensitive, I’m sure you can understand,” Otto murmured, looking at you with serious eyes.

You looked towards Alicent with a stern look on your face. “Queen Alicent saved my life. I assure you, that hasn’t been forgotten. Now, who is my investigation on?”

“The children of Princess Rhaenerya.”

…

You groaned as the maids opened the blinds. “No stop! Don’t open the windows, it stinks out there, just leave the door open.” You sat up on your bed stretching. You looked over towards one of the two maids who had opened the curtains. “Get me…two bowls of freshly boiled water and one cup, please.”

“Would you like me to bring you one of the dresses the Queen has gifted you, my lady?” The second maid asked and you shook your head.

“No need, I won’t be leaving my room today but what you can get me is fruits or oils. Oh, and get me a pot to melt things plus some scrap rope, I have work to do today.” You spoke as you yawned standing up and looking down towards the family tree you had made last night, a whole lot of incest in there.

When the second maid left you sat down and stared at the family tree. Of course, you did not know whether white hair was recessive or dominant nor if black hair was recessive or dominant, usually however, black hair tended to be the dominant trait and of course, the hair color genotype was incomplete dominance. There were too many possibilities and just thinking about it you felt overwhelmed.

“Oh my god, I don’t wanna do this.” You groaned out and just then both maids came back. You smiled and stood up walking away from your desk. “Beautiful. Leave me, I will call you when I need you.” Both maids bowed and left. Skipping to your suitcase you pulled out a tube of toothpaste and your toothbrush. “Oh, yuh!” You grinned and set your things down. You rinsed your face with the warm water cleaning your face. Then squeezing out a good amount of toothpaste you happily began brushing your teeth.

After brushing your teeth feeling clean and refreshed you went over to smell the oils they brought you. Each with its own label. You squint your eyes muttering a curse. It was hard to read cursive written like this, though eventually you got the name. Six oils they had brought you, lavender, thyme, meadowsweet, marjoram, germander, and hyssop. All smelled quite nice so you’d make them all into scented candles. Going around the room you look at all the candles from the candle holders and dump them into a pot where to proceed to melt them all. You’re sure that scented candles already existed but honestly, you didn’t want to do the whole genetics equation just yet. You’d rather do a thousand other things than work on that stupid problem.

You spent the better part of the day making your little candles, though you didn’t like the humidity that crept into your room. But now at least it didn’t smell bad inside your room, you didn’t want to ruin that by opening the window. Besides you were familiar with humidity, it never got better when you opened a window.

Every day seemed to be a cruel monotonous day. You thought that being in a different era of time would result in more than you slaving over a desk testing out different possibilities of punnett squares so you get the most accurate answer you can. After all, if you got this wrong, well you’re sure it’s going to be your head on the chopping block. You got close enough last time and after nearly dying once, you can confidently say, this was NOT worth your life.

You had initially thought that the white was received but that changed due to Jocelyn Baratheon being able to pass on her hair color to Princess Rheanys, but it was a different story when you looked at the Queen’s children, all white hair.

“So what is it!? Okay, we know it’s heterozygous, but is the Queen’s brown hair homozygous recessive then or is it also heterozygous? Does that even matter?” You gave out a yell of frustration. “Ugh! Where are the French when you need them!? That one song, Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira, les aristocrates à la lanterne! Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira les aristocrates on les pendra!” Standing up from your spot you felt a sweat bead fall down your back. It was so hot you felt like you were going to die.

On the fourth day, however, the heat became unbearable. “Fuck! I need a fan or sum!” You went and plopped yourself on your bed sighing. As you laid out you groaned as your back straight out. You don’t know how many hours you spent hunched over that stupid equation. You looked at your phone which was on the stand. “I deserve a song, maybe a movie.” Crawling you grabbed it and turned it on. Scrolling through your downloaded songs you fanned yourself. Finally, you settled on a song and as it began playing you walked around your room fanning yourself. Mid-song a huge grin grew on your face. Rolling up that damned family tree you pulled out another piece of paper and began sketching whole loudly singing the song that played in the background. After about an hour of your playlist playing a rough draft of a fan was born.

You had no electricity, but a little inertia should do the trick. You went to your phone and powered it off once more before stepping outside and calling in the nearest maid ordering her to dress you.

After being dressed you took your plans and headed off to find the blacksmith. Though mid-way walking through the castle you paused. You didn’t know where you headed. Walking around trying to find anyone, a door suddenly opened on your right. You backed away and Aemond came out looking towards you. You smiled. “Hey! Prince Aemond, where are you coming from?” You looked behind him to see a large dark room but before you could see anymore the doors closed.

“The library.” He answered with a flat tone looking you over.

“Oh! I didn’t know you guys had one, I’ll definitely have to check it out later.” You spoke in a cheery voice. This was perfect. A prince would certainly know the best blacksmith around.

An awkward moment of silence passed. As he kept his eyes on you, you felt self-conscious and were suddenly aware of the fact that you had no makeup on and that the ugly bruise on your face was showing. Eager to have him focus on something else other than your face you spoke up. “Well! Prince Aemond, you wouldn’t happen to know a blacksmith…would you?”

“A blacksmith? Why would a lady such as yourself, require a blacksmith?” He looked you up in a questioning manner.

“I need something made.” You answered and you could feel the judgment radiating off of him.

“Armor?” Aemond scoffed out.

“Goodness no. I’ve never even swung a real sword. I need other things made, and a blacksmith is the best I could come up with.” You ignored his tone and responded with a smile. You needed that blacksmith.

“What do you need to make?” Aemond pressed.

Rolling your eyes you responded. “Six spheres, two annuli, and five blades.” You watched his face and saw confusion on his face and you resisted the urge to give a smug smirk.

“Hm.. and do you have money for a blacksmith?” He smiled down at you and you paused. No…you actually didn’t have any money.

“Hmmm…no.” You purse your lips and squint your eyes at him. You stepped away from him and pointed at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow or sometime.” That was all you said before you walked away.

“My Lady, the King requests your presence.” A maid told you as we were just about to enter your room. You sighed and nodded letting the maid guide you to the King’s chamber room.

“Your Grace,” You greeted looking towards the old man in the bathtub. “You summoned me?” You walked over to stand in front of the naked man. You tried not to let your eyes wander. It was not something you wished to see.

“The hot baths and the daily disinfecting work fine, but you have forbidden drinking wine. What am I to drink? Just water?” King Viserys heaved out and pursed your lips in thought.

“A drink?” You observed the King, his skin was weak, gray and his bones were showing. He lacked nutrients. IV would work, but you didn’t know how to administer it and would rather not risk your first time putting a needle into someone who could have your head. “A juice of berries is something you can do. However, I will do my best to create a drink that helps your condition.”

Great something else to add to your already long to-do list. Couldn’t the man just die already!? The Princess ascends to the throne, and you figure out how to return home without killing yourself.

As you looked down towards the sickly man the gears in your head turned. Coffee could maybe give the allusion to feeling better, but where did coffee beans even come from? You couldn’t recall. Energy drinks were out of the question, and you had no clue how to even make them. Excess sugar? You didn’t know. Maybe some coconut water would help him. Coconut was good for people no? Maybe some milk?

No wait, what if he was lactose intolerant? You saw their versions of toilets. Not cute, you hated using them. It was disgusting.

“How long will you have me wait?” Viserys spoke out once more in a heaving tone.

“I’ll have it for you by tomorrow.” You stood still and the room full of Maester stared at you. “Oh umm, your grace. Excuse me.” You corrected yourself before leaving the room. As you walked down the hallways you saw a familiar green dress.

“Queen Alicent!” You greeted me with a smile. She only nodded towards you. “A small update on my work, I have figured out several potential linkages of genetics, I won’t be able to calculate percentages until next week give or take.”

Alicent sighed and nodded.

“...Along with that, can I ask for some…money?” You looked away from her as you asked. You hated asking for money. It was not something you were raised with. When given money it was polite to refuse it until you couldn’t. Asking for money was always out of the question. You even hate asking for your parent’s money.

“Money? What for?” She responded and you played with the rings on your fingers.

“I am making something, it is to help me with my work.” You looked up from the floor and towards Alicent. You saw her give a small nod. “My deepest gratitude.” You bowed.

“I will arrange a meeting with the master coin this afternoon.”

…

“Who’s that for?” A familiar voice sounded next to you. You rolled your eyes as you continued walking forward away from Aegon.

“Not for you.” You had not spoken to Aegon since the dinner. After all, the man had pushed you. Granted, you did land in Jacaerys arms, which was not a bad thing, but still. It was the principal, and recently, you had heard of bad things he had done. Abusing maids, bastard children, and he was an alcoholic. Not the company you wished to keep.

“I haven’t seen you in a week, not since our dance. I quite enjoyed our time together.” He spoke walking beside you trying to see what was inside the pitcher you were holding.

“I’m sure you did.” You answered in a flat tone and he stopped walking with a small frown on his face.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked you, looking you up and down.

“Did you do something to upset me? Because if you did then I am, but if you did not then I am not upset.” You looked away from him hugging the pitcher closer to you.

“What is with these riddles, woman? I asked you a question. Answer it plainly.” He rolled his eyes at you running to catch up with you.

“I did.” You gave a hum and walked into the chambers of King Viserys.

Leaving Aegon behind you walked over to King Viserys who was on a table having his wounds disinfected. “I’ve brought a drink, it improves hydration, muscle health, nerve function, blood pressure regulation, pH balance, and heart health” Or at least that’s what your health teacher told you when you had a class assignment to make electrolyte drinks from scratch.

You poured a glass for him and gave it to him as he sat up drinking it. He let out a sound of contentment while nodding. “This is good. What does it have?” You smiled, setting down the pitcher filled with electrolyte water.

“Ah, just basic things, a little bit of sugar for energy, then some sea salt, then finally some orange juice. Nothing too complicated. I’d drink it once every two days, it’s filled with a lot of nutrients, and too much can cause damage to the body. However, when you wish to drink it, simply ask the kitchen for an energy drink and they’ll make it.” You walked around, filled another chalice and offered it to the head Maester who took it drinking just a bit to test out your latest concoction.

“Thank you,” Viserys spoke with a more steady voice than he had in the last week you had spoken to him. He also seemed to sit a lot straighter. Maybe the old man had more than just a couple of weeks. No casket just yet! “I need less milk of the poppy these days to help me sleep, though I do occasionally have trouble, do you have anything for that?”

Damn! Damn, that old needy man!

There were melatonin gummies but you didn’t know how to make gummies, much less what melatonin was made out of. “Em…drink…lavender tea or have the oils sprinkled in your room. It relaxes the body, and uhh… read a boring book. It’ll knock you right out.” You gave a grin at your joke.

Viserys smiled and nodded, giving thanks.

“Of course, it is the least I can do for the Crown's continued hospitality towards me.” With that, you bowed and excused yourself to start your search mission for a certain one-eyed prince. You needed that blacksmith, this heat was killing you and honestly, you can’t stand sleeping without a blanket but it’s too hot with one.

You walked around till you finally found the library and entered. The first thing you smelt was dust. “Ugh! Goodness, do I have to invent dusters too!?” Sniffling you walked around searching for long white and impossibly straight hair. You smiled as you saw him reading a book. Walking up to him you set the bag of gold you had recently gotten from Alicent in front of him. “I have the money, now, about that blacksmith,”

Aemond gave a sigh closing the book. “You’ll find blacksmiths on the street of steel.”

“Seriously?” Your unimpressed expression said it all. “That's what the street is called? M’kay.” You turned around and as you went to walk off.

“Not many women buy armor.” Aemond pointed out and you stopped thinking about his statement. That’s right, this was an…unevolved society, not that yours was super better, but still a little. They’d probably try to upsell you…like a car dealership when a car needs an oil change or when the tires need to be rotated. (As if the tires didn’t rotate when you drove.)

You walked over to Aemond with the sweetest smile you mustered. “You’re right, I need a man to come with me. Maybe someone from the city will watch?” You batted your eyelashes, it was just your luck that you did put on a little mascara and some blush today. “Unless,” You leaned over the table and walked your fingers to his book while looking up towards him through your lashes. You’d probably get a better deal and a better blacksmith while having the prince.

“I have better things to do.” He responded in a flat tone but you didn’t miss the little smirk on his face. Though you didn’t know if that was just his resting face or something else.

“Aren’t curious to know what I’m inventing? I know you don’t know what an annuli is. I am the next biggest step in technology, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one or something? I thought this would elicit some kind of reaction.” You sighed looking away from him and instead looked towards the ceiling leaning back on the table. “I guess not. I wonder who the smart one is then, perhaps the least expected one. Aegon? Maybe the woman, Helaena, wouldn't that be something?”

“What are you inventing?” He spoke as you stood upright to leave. A smile grew on your face and you turned to him. “You’ll be the first one I show once it’s done. Promise.” You held out your pinky. He only looked at it. You grabbed his left hand and formed a fist on his hand leaving out the pinky. “You just wrap it around mine and this…” You looked at your pinkies intertwined with a smile. “Means a promise.”

…

You sighed with a big smile on your face as you wiped the sweat from your brow away. You grabbed some small bottles of shampoo and filled each one with water before you attached it to one of the five blades until each had its own bottle.

“Moment of truth.” You sighed out feeling jittery hoping that your hypothesis was right. You spun it as hard as you could and your makeshift fan spun fast blowing sweet cool air toward you drying the sweat from your face. You stood there for a couple of moments taking in the air seeing if the fan would slow down and to your satisfaction, it didn’t.

You giggled with excitement as you jumped and pumped your fist in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Nikola Tesla who!? Who needs electricity? Not me! Yes!” You relished your victory in front of your fan as the cool air flowed and gave you a nice breeze under your night clothes. Finally being able to relax you sat down sighing out in contentment. “This…this deserves a song!” You jumped onto your bed and began playing a song on your playlist as you danced around your room singing along. Mid celebration dance your stomach rumbled. Stopping you raised a brow realizing that your maids hadn’t brought you breakfast yet. Sighing you opened the door only to see Prince Jacaerys and his betrothed Princess Baela looking rather suspicious.

“Your grace? Graces?” What do you call multiple royals? You made a mental note to ask Alicent when you met her later tonight. Though Jacaerys was quick to look away. You understood the guy probably didn’t have much experience with girls, but this was a bit much no?

“My lady! You are a nightgown!” Baela spoke in a shocked tone and you looked down. It wasn’t like you were naked and this was rather covering, besides, you had shorts on under the dress.

“Oh, so that's what this is called. I thought it went under the dress.” You spoke in a nonchalant tone. Why would this be such a big deal?

“No, you wear those to sleep. My lady it is midday.” Baela spoke once again, clearing her throat. Has it really been that long? You had begun assembling your fan in the early hours of the morning when you couldn’t sleep due to the heat.

“Oh really? I guess time does fly by. Anyways I wear this all day, it provides good airflow, but I’m guessing this is not appropriate attire by his reaction….” You eyed Jacaerys if this was perhaps the first time he has seen calves and ankles on a woman before. That thought made you giggle. He’d faint if he saw the shorts for women’s sports. “Well I came to ask the maids to deliver me breakfast or I suppose lunch now. I do have a lot of work to do.”

“Breaking your fast? At this hour?” Baela asked and you gave a little annoyed sigh. You always ate late due to pressing matters. (Stupid genetic problems.)

“Yeah, they got me slavin’ me away. The work I’m doing right now takes priority and I’m allowing myself a small break to eat a bit.” You complained. You’d talk anyone’s ear off if given the chance about how much you didn’t want to do that stupid little genetic equation.

“Okay well… if you see any maids.” You snapped while pointing at them both with a small smile. “Send 'em my way.” You then pointed to yourself and with that, you turned around and went back into your room.

Finally happy with the fan in your room you sat down going back to the genetic problem. However, before you even picked up your writing utensil you promptly dropped giving a loud groan. “Argh! I don’t want to do this.” You said to no one before leaning back on the hard chair. “I’m actually not gonna do this, I’m gonna try something else.” You sighed and stood up not bothering to close the equations. Not like anyone could understand it at first glance. Hell even when you looked at it you got lost, and you made it!

You didn’t bother writing out the names and only followed the main branch of the family. What it looked like was a whole bunch of random letters with squares and some math. Total mumbo jumbo to anyone else. At least you hope, you know Otto assigned illiterate maids to you, that man really did think of everything, and no one else ever came into your room aside from Otto and Alicent who would look and give a hum before leaving. You doubted they understood this. Besides the initials of the family blended in with the punnet squares.

The door opened and there stood a maid who looked like she was shaking. You raised a brow. You never had maids before but quickly came to understand that people here saw them less than human. Therefore, due to never having maids, you treated them fairly well, why this one was shaking you couldn’t say. “Bring me more bed covers. The white thin ones, a needle and thread, and bring me something to eat.” But alas you had bigger problems than a maid who looked scared of you. If anything, a fearsome reputation was better here. “Remember no meat, preferably vegetables and fruits washed with boiled water.” You didn’t trust the meat here, there was no refrigerator to keep the meat fresh and that meant bacteria. Now you were rarely one to get sick but your immune system, you reckon, was a lot weaker here and you were vulnerable to any sickness so keeping yourself healthy and clean was paramount especially because modern medicine didn’t exist here.

While the fan was nice you definitely wanted a cooler spot and you also needed a cold place to sleep so that you could cuddle into your blankets, relishing in your own body heat. For that, you were going to create a little pod that would have a constant flow of cool air.

Soon that scared little maid from before came with bed sheets and a needle and thread. You smiled and walked over to her, going to take the things from her. Your hand brushed her hands and she flinched away before apologizing profusely. Alright that was doing a bit much. “What is it? Why are you scared?”

She shook her head incessantly. Your patience was thinning and you tossed the things onto your bed. “You either tell me why you’re scared or I’m gonna give you a reason to be really scared of me.”

“They say you are rabid.” She spoke and looked like she was gonna start crying. This girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old.

“Whaaaat?” Your brow lifted and you tilted your head looking at the girl.

“They saw your mouth foaming every morning when the maids come to take away the bowls you have every morning. Not only that but they all claim you are mad as well. The mysterious symbols on the paper and of course you spend ample time talking to yourself and some even claim that being around you for too long makes them go mad as well as they can hear melodies coming from your room and then they begin humming the melody.” The maid spoke.

You looked her up and down giving a slow blink and your mouth was open. No way, they're going to claim you are a witch! “Seriously?” You asked the young maid nodded feverishly.

You scoffed and laughed. “What’s your name?” You asked with a grin on your face.

“Dyana if it pleases m’lady.” She spoke out quickly while keeping her eyes on the floor.

“Oh, like Wonder woman.” You commented looking her up and down and she had a confused expression on her face. “Well Dyana, let me show you something.” Your bowl of water was still here when you pulled out your toothbrush. “This is a toothbrush, it is to clean your teeth.” You gave a wide grin to give her a good look at your white clean teeth. “My teeth are in much better condition than everyone here and I’m sure my breath smells better, at least I hope. Does it?” You tilted your head with a brow raised.

Dyana nodded and you smiled. “Okay now look here, this is toothpaste.” You showed her the tube and squeezed a very small glob out. You already brushed your teeth today and your supply was limited. You made a mental note to discover how to create toothpaste. “Okay now you wet it and,” You began brushing your teeth and you saw Dyana’s eyes widen as white foam started to form on your teeth. “See?” You spoke with a mouth full. You spit it into the water and then began fully brushing your teeth. Once you were done you cleaned your face and rinsed your toothbrush.

“I’m not rabid, I’ll have you know I am fully vaccinated. This is just part of me keeping clean. Along with that, people and animals with rabies are hydrophobic.” Dyana only stared and you gave a disappointed sigh. You can’t blame her for being uneducated but it got to a certain point where you were tired of explaining basic things. “Hydrophobia means one has an irrational fear of water and cannot physically consume it or even touch it. I would’ve died by now if I was rabid. The human body can only go about two days without water and as you can see it’s been well over a week.”

She nodded trying to understand. “It’s in the name. Hydro is derived from the Latin root of the word "hydro" is hydr-, which comes from the Greek word hýdōr, meaning "water" then there's phobia meaning fear which is also derived from Latin as well and there is also a Greek version. Though that one is phobos which is fear in old greek. So if you put both together you get hydrophobia. Yeah?” You nodded trying to explain this to her and to your surprise she seemed very interested. Though a small hint of confusion clouded her face.

“Latin and greek?” She asked almost like tasting the words on her tongue.

“Yes, Latin is a base language forming other languages like Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, Catalan, and Romanian among others. It also is in some English or what you all call the common tongue. I just happen to be fluent in one the latin based language and so then that leads me to be very familiar with other latin based languages like the ones I just listed.” As you explained Dyana’s attention was on you absorbing everything you said like a sponge. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“So how many tongues do you speak?” Dyana asked and you gave a smug smile. “Fluently, two, but I can carry basic conversations in French, Portuguese, and Italian.” It was a point of pride for you.

“Very impressive m’lady. The royal family and the Valeryrons also speak another tongue, one from old Valyria. Majority speak Valyrian, like they do in the free cities.”

“Hm, I wonder what the base language is for it.” You nodded looking around the room. “Well did you have the kitchen prepare my food?”

“Oh yes m’lady. Another maid should bring it.” Dyana responded by letting herself out.

“No. I want you to bring it to me, Dyana. From now on, I only want you in my service. I will show you new things, if you want extra payment. Knowledge, especially here, is invaluable.” If everyone thought you were mad you couldn’t risk anyone messing with your food. Besides you didn’t know how hygienic the other maids were, at least you could teach Dyana basic hygiene and maybe she could spread it. You heard maids always gossiped.

…

A scream woke up and you shot up shivering and wrapping your warm blanket around you but all you saw was white. “M’lady!” Dyana ran to you looking inside your little make-shift pod.

“What is Dyana!? What is this madness!?” It was your first night trying out your latest invention. It had surprisingly taken you quite a while to sow everything tight enough so that now air would escape from the back or the sides.

“Please forgive me m’lady I was simply surprised to see..this.” She gestured to your little pod. It must’ve looked strange seeing a white thing and not seeing you. Sighing you shook your head, though you quickly got out of bed to start preparing yourself for today.

As you were brushing your teeth you told Dyana to prepare a carriage for the dragon pit.

“Why are you going to the dragon pit m’lady?” You looked up to her and smiled foam covering your mouth.

“I’m going to go claim my winnings, Dyana and perhaps the favor of a Prince.” You spit and rinse your mouth.

“Do you need help dressing?” Dyana looked concerned looking towards you. She hadn’t had the best experience with the one prince she had worked for, though you didn’t know that. She hoped it wasn’t Aegon that you were meeting.

“No, but once you’re done arranging for a carriage or horse, it doesn't matter, bring me a cloak.” You ordered and Dyana bowed as you began preparing yourself for the day. Doing light makeup and taking out the only other outfit you had in your suitcase. Pulling out black capris and a brown sleeveless halter top with a draped neckline you smiled. If this went right, you’d score more than the spoils of a bet.

Fixing the small bits of hair you looked at yourself through your hand mirror. A shame they didn’t have bigger mirrors. You heard a gasp from behind and you saw Dyana with a black cloak in her hands. “M’lady, are you sure you should go out dressed in such a manner?”

“He told me to come in pants and I haven’t washed my other pants yet.” You shrugged, took your coat and slipped on the only shoes you had which were some sandals that you wore the day you fell off that bridge. Goosebumps coated your body as you thought about the unfortunate events that took place that day.

“Okay Dyana take me to the carriage. When you come back, clean my room, but don’t touch the desk, also please wash the sheets and once you’re done take the rest of the day off and when I return we can resume your lessons. If you finish before I’m back then feel free to continue learning the basics of English literature or simply relax, okay?” You spoke as you both walked to the courtyard where your ride was waiting.

As you stepped outside you gagged. “God it smells like shit.” Taking out a small perfume bottle you always kept on you, you sprayed some on the collar of the cloak so that you could smell it while you rode through the city. Walking to the carriage you covered your nose while the coachman greeted you. You have a smile but you doubt he saw it.

“M’lady.” He opened the door for you and you nodded speaking out a muffled thank you. As you sat in the carriage you closed all the windows and kept your nose covered but as it moved you began to feel sick. The smell and not being able to see that you were moving were doing a real number on your motion sickness. You heard the clattering outside and you wished you could go faster.

You simply closed your eyes trying to recenter yourself and inhaling the perfumed cloak. It was the longest thirty minutes of your life. The door opened and instead of the smell of feces it now smelled like a cow farm.

“Good Lord! Is there anywhere that smells just normal?” You muttered out making your way out. As you stood a wave of nausea hit you like a bus and you gagged once more. A hand extended and you took it. You looked up towards Jacaerys and he gave a smile while greeting you. You’d return it but you turned around before you could and gagged once more, only there was nothing to throw up as you gripped the side of the carriage.

Damn medieval times.

“Yeah, just uh…give me a second,” You gagged again. Desperately you wanted to throw something up to get rid of this headache that was starting to form. “Sorry, motion sickness, and the city doesn’t exactly smell the best.” You reassured him.

“You’d like it better on Dragon Stone.” He spoke in a low-tone and your brows shot up, not that he could see and if it wasn’t for you trying to throw up you’d say something back to encourage his implications. Instead all you could offer was a small hum before composing yourself and turning around facing him with a smile as you took off your hood.

Time to focus, you were winning this bet and reaping your reward. “Sorry. Okay now, let's go see that wager.” Jacaerys offered his hand with a smile and you took it. You walked to the Dragon pit.

“I want you to meet my dragon, Vermax.” You fought scoffing. Yes, it would be cool to see a komodo dragon but come on, if that was the best he could offer you so had this in the bag. Though you were quickly made to eat your words as the ground shook below you and your jaw dropped as a big olive-green with orange frills and orange eyes walked out from the dark pit. The only thing you could say was ask the most obvious question with the most obvious answer.

“IS THAT A DRAGON!?”

“It is my lady.” Jacaerys let go of your hand walking to his dragon as it bumped its snout against Jacaerys. You stood still unable to process what you were seeing. This was a dragon, a real dragon. With wings and everything. Your words were caught in your throat and you felt like crying. It was overwhelming and you didn’t know what you were feeling. You felt your eyes water just a bit before blinking them away.

Jacaerys frowned and quickly went to your side to ask if you were alright. As he stood next to you, you were quick to smell the dragon’s scent on him, but honestly that was the last thing on your mind. “Are you crying? I do apologize to my lady, I swear it, he will not harm you. We can leave if you’d like.”

“No! No, it’s just, that.. that’s a dragon!” You looked towards it with a smile. “A real dragon, like with…like, like, like with wings and, and…wait! Can it breathe fire?” You asked him and the smile on Jacaerys’s face said it all.

He pulled you to the side. “Vermax! Dracarys!” You watched in awe as the dragon breathed hot flames that you felt the heat even if the dragon was blowing them in the air.

You laughed looking towards Jace who shared your smile. “Oh my god!? Oh my goodness! This is- wha-!?” Words escaped you. You didn’t know how to describe this. “I fear the words I feel right now have not yet been invented.”

“Yes, a dragon certainly makes for quite a sight.” He laughed as he held you close to him making sure Vermax knew not to harm you.

“Quite a sight!? No this is- this is! I can’t even say!” You tore yourself from Jacaerys’s grip and you turned to face him with a smile. “Y’know, imma pretty sore loser and I don’t admit defeat often, but this-” You turned around gesturing to his dragon. “I reckon you might just have me beat.”

“I thought you had dragons,” He spoke with a smug smile on his face but at this moment you couldn’t bring yourself to comment on it.

“Not like this. This is something straight outta a fairy tale.” You smiled looking towards the majestic creature. When you first woke here, you saw silhouettes but you thought you were just hallucinating. It was unthinkable that dragons were real. You paused to think. If dragons existed here, then what else was here in this world. Was there actual magic here? There was so much to learn!

“I was going to take you on dragonback. Of course if you-” Jacaerys coaxed you looking down towards you.

“Say no more, say no more, say no more,” You spoke rapidly. “How do I get on?” You smiled towards him. Like hell you’d miss the chance to ride a dragon.

“Are you sure you are ready for it?” Jacaerys offered you a chance to back out. Were you scared of heights? Yes, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If you fell, you’d die happy or maybe you’d get sent back home. Either way, no way you were missing this chance.

“You could even take me Dragon Stone and show me why I’d like it more than here.” You offered with a teasing smile to encourage him. You saw him stiffen just a bit before giving a small shy smile and nodding.

Walking behind you he took your hand extending it to the dragon. You closed your eyes looking away as you kept your hand out. You felt like Hiccup from How to Train a Dragon.

You felt warm scales on your hand. Opening your eyes looking into the orange eyes. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you rubbed the dragon, a smile growing on your face.

“Hi,” You spoke in a sweet tone like you did to all animals that you came across. “Hi baby,” You stepped closer pressing yourself against the dragon petting it and giving small scratches where dogs usually enjoyed it and you felt your body rumble as the dragon let out a sound. You gave a giggle, mumbling out praises in Spanish with a baby voice. You had forgotten Jacaerys was behind you until you heard a little laugh and you cringed.

Damn!

Your face felt hot as you felt shame creep up on you. You cleared your throat giving one more pat before turning around. “Okay… you didn’t see that.” You walked away from him and Jacaerys followed.

“I’m afraid I did, My Lady.” He spoke with a smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Kay, let's not. Now how do I get on?” You spoke trying to erase the embarrassing moment away.

“Here my lady.” He climbed up the dragon helping you up. You sat behind him looking around for any kind of safety measure and to your displeasure there wasn’t any. Listen, yes you had just said you’d be fine dying but that doesn’t mean you wanted to.

“Where are the seatbelts?” You asked him and he turned to you, raising a brow.

“Seatbelt?” He laughed out loud. He didn't know what those were.

“Safety measures?” You tried again only to be met with the same look.

You sighed. Of course that didn’t exist yet, but they had to stay on somehow. “How do you stay on?”

“You hold on tight.” He gave a grin.

“What!?” And before you could register Vermax moved forward. You gave a scream and hugged Jacaerys’s waist holding yourself close to him. “This is barbaric!” You yelped out and the only response you got was his laugh.

“Soves Vermax.” Jacaerys called and you recognized the wording it sounded similar to some word that you know meant fly. As Vermax continued forward and opened his wings, you definitely now knew what the word meant.

You groaned as the wind pushed against you and you felt gravity push you down as Vermax lifted himself into the sky. You gripped Jacaerys clothes as hard as you could and suddenly your cloak flew off.

“Oops!” You turned and watched your cloak fly off in the distance. “Oh well…” You murmured turning back and pressing the side of your face on Jacaerys back.

You felt him look back towards you. He saw your face pressed against him as your eyes were squinted trying to adjust to the harsh wind.

“Not many can keep their eyes open on their first flight.” He spoke as Vermax finally steadied in the air.

You furrowed your brows looking up towards him. “You’ve brought other women up here with you before?”

Jacaerys stiffened and shook his head. “No.”

“Then how do you know?” You asked him.

“When I first took my brother Joffrey up with me, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.” He responded with a smile recalling the memory.

“Oh.” It was all you said before resting your face against him once more looking down towards the ocean. “How far is Dragon Stone?” You asked and he leaned back looking towards you again.

“Not far on Dragonback but about a week's trip on ship.” He responded, turning back to steer Vermax up again to feel you hold on to him tighter. It was a little mischievous but he figured no one else was around to see, so it was fine.

Finally breaking through the clouds you let out a sound of wonder looking through the clouds. “Yeah I think you might’ve just won this wager.”

Jacaerys only responded with a laugh.

You inhaled the clean air. Much better than King’s Landing. “It is better up here. Fresher…” You breathed out a jittery breath. “But colder.” You missed your cloak.

“We’ll be there soon.” Jacaerys spoke and you hummed and nodded trying to take in the rays of sun trying to ignore the cold air.

For the flight you both stayed quiet as you took in his body heat trying to warm yourself. The sight was truly breath-taking.

“We’re here.” You heard Jacaerys speak and you looked over his shoulder seeing the grand castle.

“Woah, nice place.” You commented but you felt your stomach drop as you saw Vermax’s head angle itself down. “Wait wait wait!” You screamed as Vermax dove. Just as you dove, you felt him steady out and you shook as Vermax landed. “Oh god,” You breathed out as you kept your tight grip on Jacaerys even though Vermax had now landed.

A cold gust of wind chilled you. You regret wearing this sleeveless halter top. You don’t how long you stayed attached to Jacaerys before he asked if you were okay. You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you only nodded into his back.

“Ready to get down?” He asked and once more you nodded. He slid down Vermax’s wing landing on a soft patch of grass. As he looked up his breath hitched. Once again Jacaerys looked away while helping you down.

He heard a laugh from you and turned to you. “Don’t be such a prude, they’re just clothes.” You flicked his forehead and he rubbed it when you turned away as Vermax flew away.

“So this is Dragon Stone?” You asked, looking around. He had taken you to the highest point of Dragon Stone away from the actual castle. He’d rather his mother didn’t find out about this little flight you two took. Daemon already didn’t like you and his mother was skeptical of you ever since you showed up that night in a green dress.

“It is. Do you like it?” He mumbled as he stood behind you. He saw you nod and turn to him with a smile. You looked quite nice today, even if your hair was messy from the wind and your clothes brought up a feeling he’d rather not look into.

“I do. You were right, this place is much better than King’s Landing. Smells a lot better here.” You sat down on the grass looking towards the sea and he saw your face drop a bit.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting next to you.

“I came here by sea. Sometimes I wonder if I can go back by sea.” You spoke never facing him.

“You want to go back?” Jacaerys asked and you turned to him with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t I? I miss my home, my family, my friends, and there was a guy I was pining after too.’ You purse your lips nodding looking at him.

Once again another emotion Jacaerys would rather not name came up when you mentioned you wanted to be courted by someone else. This was wrong. He was promised to Baela. He shouldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t have brought you here. Though Jacaerys could not find it in him to regret bringing you here.

He sighed and turned away from you. “What is..your home like?” Would it hurt to know more about you? No he doesn’t think so. (Yes it does.)

You smiled. “My home is…very different from here. We don’t have dragons for one.” You giggled out. “But we have airplanes and cars. Modern technology I think would really shock you.” You turned to him only to find him already facing you. This time however, Jacaerys did not look away from you and all of a sudden you felt your face grow hot. You coughed out a laugh. “Obviously as you can see our clothes are different and our music is different and we have movies and TV shows.”

“What are cars and airplanes, and movies and TV shows?” He asked. They were words he never heard before but was eager to learn.

“Well…” For the next couple of hours you both spent speaking to each other about where you came from and explaining how your modern life was. Everything from schooling systems, water systems, judicial systems, the government and of course spoke about global issues such as wars and global warming.

“It sounds…complicated.” Was all he could say. Weapons of war that could wipe out an entire city four times the size of King’s Landing, cities that housed millions of people, the planet heating up too fast, and the obvious power struggle between countries among other things you mentioned. Of course there were also the good things such as it smelled a lot better where you came from due to ‘sewer systems’ and proper hygiene.

“It is and sometimes it is overwhelming thinking of it. It takes a lot to make an impact in the world now, but it’s what I want to do. That’s why I have to go back. I need to continue my schooling so that I can specialize in a field and perhaps one day develop something new that will have my name in history books and something will make me a lot of money.” You smiled towards the end of your sentence.

“Can’t you do that here?” He mumbled out looking away from you. “The King already looks much better since you’ve arrived.” It was wrong, he shouldn’t try to convince you to stay here. You had a home and that was where you belonged, though a part of him wished to see you here. He was curious about you and for now that was all Jacaerys was willing to admit.

He began to grow nervous as you stayed silent. Perhaps he had offended you. “I apologize my lady, I misspoke-”

“No—you’re right.” You cut him off looking towards him and slowly a smile grew on your face. “Here, I can…I can change everything. If I change the course of time, I can start feminism early! I can name the Roman water system after me and no one would think anything of it!” You leaned over to Jacaerys and grabbed his shoulders with a grin. “Do you know what this means!?”

He only blinked towards looking towards you trying to process your touch on him and of course your words. “I can basically be Barbie!” You let go of him and covered your mouth. “Why haven't I thought of this before!? I’d be like a legend here! The things I can make! Pray tell I’m not the best at plans but…just maybe,” Yes you wanted to go home, but the chance you could make a big change was less likely there. But here! Here you could be whatever you wanted because you could make the rules here, all you would need is a position of power and influence. Make good deeds with commoners and you’d become one of the most important figures of history while being a woman. Big plus for feminism and while it wouldn’t all change in one life-time, if you can plant the seed here and now, there's no telling the impact it will have in the future and it would be all because of you.

Jacaerys watched you go deep into thought and while he didn't know what a ‘Barbie’ was or feminism he did know that he no longer felt guilty for bringing you here if it convinced you to stay.

“You’re a genius, Jacaerys , you know that?” You asked him, smiling. “You just gave this place the best gift you could ever give. It’ll for sure elevate the opinion of the common people for you since you’re in line for the throne. I’m going to introduce so many things! Mendelian genetics? No genetics! Darwinism? No, me-ism, I’m gonna name everything after me!” You smiled. “I’ll probably have to get creative so that not everything sounds the same, like Alexander the Great did with the library of Alexandria and all those other cities. Yes…”

Jacaerys smiled and stood up offering his hand to you. “It is getting late, perhaps we should return to King’s Landing.” He watched you put on a bit.

“I don’t wanna go back yet. I like it here, it’s cold and well the air is cleaner.” You looked up towards him as you laid back onto the floor looking at the darkening skies as the stars became visible. “The stars are never this clear where I come from…” You trailed off looking up with a small smile. Jacaerys sighed and laid down beside you looking towards the stars that became more visible by the minute.

“We’ll get in trouble if we don’t return soon.” Jace spoke and while he would rather stay here, he’d rather not have his mom ask him questions about why he was with you.

You turned to him with a smile on your face and you touched his hair that was becoming overgrown. “You should keep growing out your hair, it looks better longer.” Jacaerys breath hitched as he felt your cold fingertips lightly graze his forehead. He watched you smile once more before looking back up towards the stars.

He coughed and looked away from you.

Jacaerys doesn’t know how long you both stayed laid out on the grass watching the stars. It was only when he felt his eyes closing that he realized how long had passed as he now registered how dark it was. He jerked his head over to you seeing that your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow. He called your name a couple of times before you finally opened your eyes.

“Hm?” You looked over as your eyes adjusted to the dark. You began stretching and took a deep breath of the clean air before relaxing once more looking up at the starry night.

“It’s really late…” Jacaerys whispered.

“Oh yeah…” You sat up looking around. You took in a shaky deep breath. It was cold. “Welp let's go back.”

“You’re not worried?” He asked as you both walked down the mountain.

“No, why would I?” You were a little, surly Otto and Alicent would have questions.

“What others would think about you being out so late with a man. Rumors spread when an unmarried man and woman are together.” He walked next to you seeing you shiver just a little. He was unsure if he should give you his coat, after the comment he just made.

You shrugged. “Let them speak. What does it matter? You’re a prince and I am someone who they will never hope to reach. If I began to care what others thought of me, then I would not be someone who is ready for the success I am to bring here.”

Finally you reached Vermax.

“Naejott Vermax” He spoke and you looked over. That’s right, Dyana had told you Targeyens spoke a different language.

“Is that Valyrian?” You asked as Vermax came closer to you both.

Jacaerys nodded. “Do you speak it?”

“I think I could recognize some words.” You smiled up at him as you grabbed onto Vermax taking in his warmth.

“Can you?” Jacaerys challenged.

“I’m pretty good at Latin languages, give me your best shot.” You grinned. Surely if you could recognize ‘songs’ you’d do pretty good.

“Rytsas.” Jacaerys spoke and your confidence went down slightly. You had no idea what that meant.

“I need a sentence.” You tired again, no way you’d get something from just a word.

“Ñuho lento naejot guēse rōvēgrie issa.” Jacaerys spoke once more with a smile.

“Damn…gotta stop setting myself up for failure.” You mumbled. Thankfully it was dark so he wouldn’t be able to see your shame creeping onto your face. “...I don’t know.” You tried to give a little laugh at the end.

“The first phase was hello and the second I was telling you that there was a big tree in front of my home.” He laughed starting to take off his coat seeing as you were clinging to Vermax for dear life trying to warm yourself.

“Never would’ve guessed.” You gave a smile trying to keep yourself from shivering.

“Here,” Jacaerys offered you his coat and though you wanted to take it, it felt wrong.

“You’d be cold then,” You objected.

“I have more layers on.” He reasoned and nodded as you took the coat, wrapping it around yourself.

“Can I go in front this time?” You asked as you climbed onto Vermax.

He gave a hum thinking it over before nodding. “I’ll be steering though.”

“That’s fine, I just want to be in front.” You nodded as Jacaerys sat behind you and suddenly he began to regret letting you sit in front. He would have to reach over you to keep a hold of Vermax meaning he would have to lean on top of you, but it was too late to say anything.

He leaned over you and you bent forward consequently pressing your backside against him. He gave a cough trying to cover the groan. He’s never even been this close to a woman, much less in this position. It was going to be a rough ride home.

…

“Thank you, it was nice.” You whispered out as you both snuck back into Red Keep. You both stood still in a dark corner to avoid being seen by anyone who roamed the halls. Jacaerys nodded fast hoping to leave his room and fast. He had grown painfully hard as the ride kept you snuggly against him and honestly it was starting to hurt. Though a part of his hopes you felt him against you.

Looking down towards you while you were in his coat and smell of his dragon with your sweet scent tangled with each other, his mind was quickly becoming clouded with lust. Perhaps that is why he spoke in such a bold manner. “You told me you’d give me anything, no? As for our deal?” He whispered out looking around.

He watched you smile. “You haven’t seen my surprise yet.”

“I thought you said I won?” He breathed heavily clenching his fists trying to keep himself in check.

“You still haven’t seen it, tell you what though, tomorrow night, come to my chambers and I’ll show you. I’ll make it worth your time.” You smiled and walked unknowing you left him with a very big problem to solve when he got to his own chambers.

Note: This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Also pls keep asking me things I quite enjoy responding to them!

Previous I Next I Masterlist

To be added to Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

198 notes · View notes

anyarose011 · 4 months ago

Text

"There Must Be Something in the Water" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: Many men with one eye have followed you home before...but never one with silver hair. What could he possibly want with you?

Part 1 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, vulgar jokes, talk of sex, prostitution, and spice (but not smut)

I jumped on the HOTD bandwagon, and even worse (I don't know how it happened, seriously, I don't), I started loving Aemond "Mommy Issues" Targaryen. I came up with this lovely little mini series, and I hope you enjoy it! If you know where the song in this chapter is from, 100 points to *insert your Hogwarts House*! Also, please don't try and keep a timeline of events (the show for sure doesn't), and if you need help on the Westeros money system, use this.

Word Count: 4.2k

You knew a man was following you one lonesome night. It was like clockwork though; you walking through the empty, darkened streets of King’s Landing, a hollow water jug on your hip as if it were a babe.

It didn’t matter if it was the same one who’d been following you all week; what mattered, was what he had. You hadn’t caught sight of him yet, so perhaps he was a different man. Still, if it wasn’t, then simply from how his eyes must traced over you, he’d plan on coming closer that night.

Wearing only your sandals and a thin dress, you continued down the narrow path. It must’ve been…oh, perhaps three hours before sunrise? If you’d gone any sooner or any later, than members of the City Watch would surely be out.

Whether they wanted to aid or hurt you, it would all be the same.

As faint torches began to appear alongside the walls you walked, and you knew you grew closer to the well, you began to hum lightly at first. Then, you sung even softer; no words, just your voice in its purest form. It was only when you finally made it to the well, and after you sat atop the stones, did you finally add a story to your song.

“Father’s hunting in the forest, Mother’s cooking in the home. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You cranked the bucket down into the well, still singing.

“’Til I’m grown, ‘Til I’m grown. I must go to fetch the water, ‘til the day that I am grown.”

You glanced up and saw the shadow of the man who had been following you. He was still peeking out from behind an alley, but once he saw your head move, he stepped out. Yet, you merely kept your back to him, cranking the handle on the well to bring the bucket up.

“Then I will have a handsome husband, and a daughter of my own. Then I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in the home.”

Taking the bucket off its hook, you poured it carefully into the jug. Setting the bucket back, you then stood up, taking the full jug of water into your arms. Slowly, you began to walk uphill and out of the area of the well, singing quietly.

“My own home, My own home. Then, I’ll send her to fetch the water, I’ll be cooking in my home. My own home, My own-.”

You’d gotten better at making it look like an accident when dropping your jug of water. The first time you’d done it, you glanced back to make sure your unsuspecting victim was watching and let go of it. Needless to say, he was the one that robbed you that night.

The jug rolled down the cobbled hill, and ricocheted off the well, spinning in place. Soon, the silhouette of a man became visible as he came closer to the jug. Your eyes drifted up from the ground. When you saw his face, the first thing you noticed was only one eye; the other, his left eye, covered by a humble patch.

Then, the one thing that frightened you: Long hair that was almost the shade of the sun, it was so light.

This wasn’t a drunken man wandering alone at night, this wasn’t a Kingsguard who had an itch to scratch.

No…no, this was Aemond Targaryen, a prince. A prince who could do anything to you, and you wouldn’t be able to resist; even if you fought.

And he was staring at you from the foot of the hill. You weren’t even at the top, only halfway. In actuality, this wasn’t the most afraid you’d ever been in a situation like this. Still, the way he bent down to pick up the jug without his smile wavering, or his eye never leaving yours, greatly unnerved you.

Then, he turned away from you, approaching the well. Setting down the jug, he began to turn the crank of the well, lowering the bucket back down into the water. This wasn’t the first time a man had done this…yet from a prince?

“Come down now,” he beckoned, not looking at you. “I won’t cause any harm. You look ridiculous.”

You hadn’t any idea at the time what words he would say…but those weren’t what you expected at all. Making a sour face, you slowly trailed down the rocky hill until you were at level with him. Aemond stopped cranking, and finally looked at you.

“I know you aren’t a mute.” He taunted. “You wouldn’t sing so sweetly if you were.”

Still, you refused to speak. Instead, you folded your hands, standing tall as if you were an equal to him. This only widened the smile upon his face. He sat atop the rocks of the well, leaving a space for you.

You approached him, but did not sit. Even as his eyes trailed over your figure (and how little of your curves the dress hid), you remained stoic; at least, as best as you could. It certainly wasn’t the first time a man looked upon you with lust…but it felt stranger now.

“Don’t tell me I have to pay coin solely to have a conversation with you?” He laughed.

“No.” You finally spoke. “But you are the second Targaryen I have witnessed to take comfort in brothels whilst mourning his line in succession.”

…If you were going to die at any point in life, you at least thought you would die in a fight. This wasn’t the one you were imagining, but it would do.

He nodded, his voice returning to what you assumed to be normal; a natural edge to it that one would find difficult to discern if he was angry at them. “I assume my brother was the first to receive your comfort then?”

“He has never laid eyes on me.”

“I have heard the stories of you.” Aemond hissed. “A living siren, luring those thinking with the head between their legs, only to rob them of all they have. How is it possible he has not seen you?”

“Perhaps you underestimate the King’s intelligence.”

“You followed me.” You wanted to say, but only did so in your mind.

He sighed, standing up to be almost toe to toe with you. “If you are not a whore, then how did you come to know I have visited the Street of Silk?”

Dropping your eyes to the ground, they were soon brought back up by Aemond’s hand cupping your jaw. You did not know if it was shock or stupidity, but you weren’t the least bit afraid. He wanted answers, and he wasn’t so pigheaded to kill you before you gave them.

You backed out of his grip, sighing as if he was an inconvenience (he was, but you couldn’t tell him that). “For years I have made deals with the ladies of the night. I come to them in the evening, they tell me what men are still sick with lust, I lure those men, rob them, maim them, kill them if I have to, and share whatever I have taken.”

A smile lurked in the corner of his mouth. “You’ve killed men before?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you believe.”

“Did the women tell you to lure me?”

“They did not tell me it was you.”

“But you knew I was in their attendance.”

“Are you going to fill my jug of water or not?”

Aemond turned back to the well, your empty water jug still resting on the stones. “Answer my question.” He gritted his teeth, yet still brought his hands to the crank and turned it.

You leaned against the basin, watching him and debating your words. “Have you spoken to any women outside your house?”

He snickered (to your surprise and your delight). “You’re very strange.”

“Answer my question.” You teased gently.

“Yes, I have.” The bucket resurfaced, and he took it off the hook. “If my frequent visitations to the Street of Silk haven’t made you aware, then I would say that the gods have cursed you with selective attention.”

“Then you must know that women like to talk.” You sat upon the rocks. “That it would be impossible for them to keep quiet about a silver-haired prince with one eye.”

Aemond said not a word as he poured the water into the jug. When it was filled, he set the bucket back on the hook and walked to stand in front of you. His hands resting on the stones outside of your thighs, caging you.

“Do you favor talking?”

“Only when it brings me favor.”

He brought one of his hands up to your thigh, dancing dangerously close to the inside of it. You sucked in a breath as he asked. “This is what it takes to grant you favor? Dressing yourself up like a doll, singing like a bird for men?”

“Why did you follow me?” You brought your face just a little closer for him to hear your whisper.

“I thought I already told you.” He held your face in his other hand, shutting his eye and hovering his nose above yours. “I have heard the stories; I wanted to see if you were real, and as beautiful as many have claimed.”

You brought your hand to grip onto the wood of the well, steadying yourself as you felt his breath upon your skin. “And what are your thoughts?”

He opened his eye, wearing that same smile. “You’re not…unpleasing to look at.” Pinching your cheek, he drew himself away from you to see the state you contorted your body in. He scoffed. “Seven Hells, you thought I’d push you, didn’t you?”

Relaxing, you hopped down from where you sat, cradling the heavy jug of water into your arms. “You can never be careful around men.”

He hummed. “Especially those who look like the monsters mothers tell their children hide that under their beds.”

“I would’ve thought that if I hadn’t spoken to you.” You tried to pass by him.

His hand came to rest on your bare shoulder; his fingers playing with the thin strap. “And now that you have?”

You felt bold that night (if it wasn’t obvious prior). So, holding the jug on your hip, you brought your other hand over his; softly caressing his knuckles as you smiled. “You’re funny.”

He didn’t laugh, not even smiled. Instead, for a moment, you saw his eye grow. You pulled away from him, your stomach churning at what you had just said and done. You offended him, you must have.

“Goodnight,” your curtsied. “your grace-.”

“-Aemond.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to enlarge.

“You may call me Aemond.”

He said it as if you would surely see him again. Taking a crisp breath, you smiled shyly. “And what if I were to call you ‘Little Prince’?”

“Perhaps when I hear you sing again, I might allow it.”

“Then I bid you goodnight, Aemond.” You curtsied playfully, quickly turning on your heel to walk away from him.

You heard his footsteps behind you. “You have not told me your name.”

“Perhaps when you hear me sing again,” you repeated his words. “I shall give it to you.”

You expected him to follow you for the second time that night. To maybe pull you into a dark alleyway and make you tell him your name in the most pleasant way possible. Yet, you did not hear a retort as you walked back up the cobbled hill and turned on the first right to where your home was.

The sound of life soon flooded your ears as you walked through the main part of the city. Even with it being almost sunrise, there were still enough people out and about. It was only when you were nearing close to home, did the events of the night truly dawn on you.

You ran into the prince, and not only had you come out of it unharmed but also liked by him. It couldn’t possibly have been anything more than him wanting to wet his cock again (wet his cock with a girl his own age to put it more accurately, but you could never say that aloud). Despite how much the interaction thrilled and entertained you, you hoped to any gods above you wouldn’t see him again for that very reason.

Whilst turning another corner, a hooded man had tried to do the same, causing the two of you to collide. The jug fell out of your arms and crashed onto the road, the water spilling out.

“Cocksucker!” You cursed, falling to your knees.

You glanced up at the man who caused this, but he quickly pushed past you. For a moment, you thought you saw silver hair.

It was an open secret amongst the Smallfolk how…peculiar the Targaryens were.

Sighing heavily, you pulled yourself up along with the jug. When you began to walk though, you heard soft clinging from the jug. Stopping soon as you started, you glanced into the empty jug, and a faint shining momentarily blinded you. You reached in and pulled out five silver coins.

Stags…they were Stag coins.

You could pay half a years’ worth of food, a somewhat nicer place to live, clothes that were your own…but it wasn’t enough for passage on a ship, none the less, a new life.

Sliding the coins back into the jug, you continued on your way home as if nothing had happened. All the while, pondering if running into the little prince again would do more harm than good.

Not the day after you ran into Aemond, but the day after that, you were in the streets with the other smallfolk, weeping with his sister and his mother.

The same night you first met him was the same night Prince Jaeherys was beheaded. You hadn’t an idea how old he was until you watched his little body wheeled through King’s Landing. There had never been a procession like this, and the whole event made you feel ill.

It felt strange to call it an event; to have the same word used for festivals and celebrations describe a funeral.

As you attempted to escape the crowds that were reaching out to Queen Halaena, a daunting thought dawned on you: Was it Daemon Targaryen, the traitor to the Crown, uncle and husband to Rhaenyra, that you saw the previous night?

Swallowing down the sickness that stirred within you, you decided to cauterize your doubt with work.

“You know,” one of the brothel workers, Valda, smirked. “a certain, silver-haired dragon keeps asking about you.”

Scowling, you looked at her in the mirror while sitting at the vanity, one of the other girls doing your hair. “And what have you told him?”

“I’ve told him nothing. Chansey though-.”

“-You said you wouldn’t tattle!” Chansey, after running a comb through your hair, threw it at her.

It was dinner for most of the girls, and every one of them laughed as they ate in one of the sitting rooms.

“What did you tell him?” You interrogated.

She sighed. “When he came last night, he asked for ‘The Woman at the Well’, and if I knew your name. I said you’d have to tell him yourself, and that you left an hour before he arrived.”

“So now he knows I’m here right now.”

Valda rolled her eyes, kneeling to your height and wrapping her arms around you. “If he cared so much for you, why isn’t he here right now?”

“I don’t want to know.”

He was more than likely fucking Sylvi as you spoke.

“What did you do to the Kinslayer to make him act like this?” She jested.

There was that name people were calling him. He killed Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhanerya and probably the reason there would be a war in the coming month. People said that the boy fell from his dragon, others said Aemond’s dragon ate him, you didn’t know at the time. All you knew was that you wanted the conversation to end.

But, Valda persisted.

“I know you’ve never lain with anyone, but I didn’t know you sucked cock like a goddess.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and the girls howled with laughter. “I did nothing of the sort!”

Chansey giggled. “Don’t tell us you let him nurse on your tits like a newborn babe.”

“…Huh?”

More giggles followed as she said. “That’s what he does to Sylvi-!”

“-Who does what to me?”

Four little words silenced the room quicker than a drawn sword would have. All eyes darted to the opened door, and Sylvi entering. She only looked at Chansey.

She swallowed thickly. “No one, Madame Sylvi.”

“I hope you aren’t shaming the activities that I or other girls have done in this house; considering you have spread your legs and filled your mouth for far longer than half of the women in this room alone.”

“I didn’t intend any harm, Madame.” She dropped her head solemnly. “Please, forgive me.”

Sylvi approached her, caressing her cheek. “All is forgiven unless I hear those ugly words from you again. That goes for the rest of you, understood?”

They nodded and mumbled their agreement. Sighing, Sylvi announced. “Take the rest of your dinner in your quarters. If any men request you, tell him to wait, you still have fifteen minutes left. I need to speak with our ‘Woman at the Well’, as the title has been given to her by the prince himself.”

The girls chuckled, offering sincere goodbyes as they passed by you before exiting. When it was only you and Sylvi, she sat down on the long couch just behind where you were sitting. She looked at you through the mirror and tilted her head. You got up and sat beside her.

“Did you get anything from last night?” She first asked.

Nodding, you took out a small pouch from your boot. “It was the man visiting from Essos.”

“The rich one or his pageboy?” She opened it, revealing two copper Star coins, and one Groat. That answered her question.

“Apparently,” you relaxed further into the couch, leaning against her. “the rich one grew a conscience and decided to go back to his wife instead of fucking Valda. Did she tell you that?”

“You know her.” She stretched her arm to hang behind you. “She doesn’t like being left dry.”

“Does anyone?” You giggled.

Sylvi lightly tugged a piece of your hair. “Don’t slouch, you’ll mess up Chansey’s hard work.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you sat up. “It’s already dark, is there someone waiting for an innocent woman at a well?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I’ve heard of now, but tonight, perhaps. There’s so much talk of war, I’m feeling ill already thinking of it. Still, it will bring fortune for the both of us.”

“I suppose so.” You sighed, leaning forward.

Her hand came up to stroke your back, her finger trailing your spine. “Is it true you still haven’t fucked anyone?”

“Sylvi!” You laughed.

“Is it wrong I find it hard to believe?!” She shoved you playfully. “You’ve done so much good for us throughout the years; I’m confident there isn’t one handsome fella who wouldn’t want to bed you. Or one of the ladies, if you prefer.”

“I’m alright.” You had told her that a hundred times prior, and you felt as if you would tell her a hundred times more.

She sighed. “Suit yourself. Come back in an hour or two, we should have someone drunk on cunt for you to sedate.”

“Of course.”

You dusted yourself off and stood, heading to the door. Sylvi called your name, and you turned.

“I don’t want you speaking with the prince.” Her face was sullen. “You shouldn’t have to deal with his burdens.”

Nodding, you opened the door. “Tell him to leave me be if he asks again; I don’t want to deal with him either.”

You had decided on not wanting to see him again; even if he gave you a hundred Dragons (…that’s a lie, you would).

So, after wandering around King’s Landing for another hour, sticking close to the well-lit parts of the city and almost enjoying the merry crowds, you went back to the brothel, changed into your thin dress, and applied a light coat of makeup. Valda had been with a boy who turned two and twenty that night; friendless, wanted to do something extraordinary to celebrate his name day, and she had been the first person who made him cum. He didn’t even get to slip his cock in her, he was so overwhelmed.

She said he was sweet; you almost felt bad as you spotted him whilst preparing around the corner.

You began to sing the same song you sang every other night, carrying the jug on your hip. You were bolder that night knowing he was more innocent than you, so you glanced over your shoulder and beckoned him closer.

As you sat on the well, letting the bucket lower, you could feel the boy’s presence grow stronger. When you finished your song, you finally looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. Then, your eyes fell to a figure in the alleyway behind him.

“Does your mother know you’re here, boy?”

Said boy turned to look over his shoulder and was met with the face of a hooded one-eyed man, grinning like the devil. The boy’s jaw quivered and only stammers escaped. Aemond walked closer to him.

“What did you think would happen tonight?” He taunted. “You’d come up behind her and fuck her senseless?”

“N-no, I-I-!”

“-Leave us.”

The trembling boy said nothing more; only kept his head down and walked quickly away from the well. Rolling your eyes, you drew them away from the prince once it was only the two of you.

“You’re welcome.”

‘You’re welcome’ he said.

You looked back at him, your face falling into disgust. “What do I have to be thankful for?”

“I assumed you didn’t take pleasure luring little boys night after night.” He sat beside you. “Seems like a chore.”

“It’s worse.” You sighed, cranking the water bucket up. “It’s a job; something us smallfolk need.”

He snickered. “You believe I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

“For coin? Yes.”

“Is there anything else you do for work? Or are you just a siren?”

You looked at him, halting yourself. “Why did you pay me that night?”

He shrugged. “You gave me a service.”

“Someone to talk to?”

“Entertainment.”

Leaning against the wooden post of the well, you asked. “So will you pay me in gold this time? Considering you entertained yourself so much I lost a quarry?”

“We’ll see.” He stood up and placed his hand on the crank.

Humming, you stood as well, turning your whole body to him. “And no, I don’t just do this.”

“What do you do?”

“I usually tailor, sometimes look after children; many odd jobs.”

“Where do you tailor?”

You smirked. “Try asking me later.”

He took the bucket off its hook once it appeared. “I won’t, if you tell me your name.”

“How much coin do you have for that?”

“You didn’t have to pay for my name.”

“I already knew who you were.”

“Well, then you didn’t have to pay for the privilege to use it.” He poured the water into your jug.

You shrugged. “You made me lose a quarry, so…”

Aemond rolled his eye, but you could still see a smirk playing on his lips as he reached into his pocket and took out three silver coins; Moons. Your own eyes grew, and like a greedy child, you instantly stretched your hand out to grasp them. He was quicker, holding them closer to his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah, your name, and something else…”

That’s what made you lose interest. You forced yourself to stand taller, but your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest and run away in terror.

“I’m not going to…to…”

He tilted his head, mimicking you. “To…to do what?”

“How plainly am I allowed to speak to you?”

“As if you were my own brother.”

“I’m not going to fuck you.” You forced out. “And I won’t let you do that to me either.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head. “Is there a difference?”

“Out of the both of us, you’re the only one who’s been in a pleasure house for its intended purpose. I thought you would know.”

“And you have thought correctly.” He pocketed the coins. “I don’t wish for that; only a walk.”

You furrowed your brow. “To where?”

“Nowhere, just around King’s Landing.”

This was stranger than the first night. The coins were meant to be found after you left, but now there he was, paying you directly for a service. He more than likely had his fill with Sylvi earlier, and after you first mentioned him to the girls, one of them let it slip that Madame Sylvi was the only woman he pleasured himself with.

So, despite how much he would deny it, Prince Aemond Targaryen was paying you to be a friend.

And damn it all, even though you had a feeling it would all end in tears, you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him your name.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #hotd season 2 #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #game of thrones #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond one eye #prince aemond

268 notes · View notes

cowboybeepboop · 4 months ago

Note

bae it’s me i need you to write a HOTD smut with Aemond so bad im going ferral im literally ovulating rn so bad pls 😔

Pairing: Modern Aemond x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You’re Aemonds assistant whom he has a soft spot for.

Warnings: Office sex, unprotected, p in v sex, semi public, teasing, fingering.

a/n: I really hope you enjoy 🤒 there will in fact be a part 2 at some point 😝 So if anyone wants to be tagged in it let me know! And as always send any requests my way <3

Aemond Targaryen sat behind his large, oak desk, in the spacious and pristine office. He was quietly going over some paperwork, when the door to his office opened and you walked in.

The tall blonde man looked up from the paperwork, and his blue eye settled on you. He had gone through many assistants, but you had lasted longer than any of the others. Aemond was never sure if it was because you were good at your job, or if you simply had an unusually high tolerance for him.

“Good morning Sir, I know I’m late but-” you begin to try to explain yourself but he responds with a cold glare as he cuts you off.

Aemond set down the pen in his hand and looked at you sternly. He had a reputation for being a demanding and hard-to-please boss, and you were already behind schedule it seemed.

“Save your excuses,” he said in a clipped tone. “And tell me why you’re late.”

“Right, I’m late because there was a car crash on the freeway.” you clear your throat, gaze fixed on the wall behind him. “It won't happen again Sir, next time I’ll leave earlier.”

Aemond listened to your explanation, his expression flickering with a mixture of mild irritation and a hint of concern. He leaned back in his chair and scrutinized you for a moment.

"I'm glad you're unharmed," he said after a moment. "But punctuality is vital in this office." His gaze remained fixed on you, and there seemed to be something unspoken behind his words.

“Yes of course Sir,” you give him a soft smile, “Is there anything I can do or shall I wait at my desk until you need me?”

Aemond's eye flicked over your face as you smiled at him, and for a moment, a flicker of something akin to warmth was in his eye.

"You may wait at your desk," he said, his voice still cool but not as sharp as before. He picked up his pen again and returned to his paperwork, signaling your dismissal. As you headed back to your desk he glanced up and called after you. "Y/N."

“Sir?” you turn to face him, smoothing your skirt as you stand in front of him. Aemond looked at you for a moment, his gaze assessing.

"Close the door," he said, gesturing towards the door to his office. As the door clicked shut, the room suddenly felt more intimate. Aemond leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on you. "Come here," he said, beckoning you closer, his voice low and commanding.

You follow his demand, moving to his desk with swiftness. Aemond watched you approach, his eye never leaving your form. He studied you with an intensity that was almost palpable, his gaze flickering over your face and body as you stood in front of him.

"Closer," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Come stand in front of me, right in front of the desk. Facing me."

“Is everything alright Sir?” you question while moving exactly where he wants you.

He ignored your question for a moment, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward in his chair, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin as he studied you.

"I want to ask you a question," he said, his gaze fixed on your face. "And I want an honest answer. Can you do that?"

“Yes, of course I can.” you smile sweetly as you watch his expression.

Aemond watched you intently, his eye studying your features as he spoke. "How come none of my previous assistants lasted as long as you have?" He asked, his voice low and measured.

“Are you sure you want an honest answer?” Your tone is a soft question.

Aemond's smirk widened at your question, and he leaned back in his chair. "Of course," he said, his voice edged with a hint of challenge. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want an honest answer."

“Right, well.. I think you can be very difficult at times, you’re a very demanding boss, every little detail must be perfect, and most importantly the hours are a challenge. I never know when I’ll be going home for the night.” you chew on your bottom lip, hoping he won't fire you because of your explanation.

Aemond listened as you spoke, his smirk never leaving his face. He knew he was difficult to work for, and he had pushed many of his assistants to their limits. But he also couldn't help but be impressed by your brutally honest answer.

"Interesting," he said after a moment, his eye still fixed on you. "And yet you've lasted longer than any of the others. Why is that?"

“I understand the demand for timeliness and perfection, you’ve got a difficult job here, the fate of all our jobs rely on your ability to get things done correctly. The late hours don’t bother me much either… But I also really enjoy having a stable job.” your eyes fall on his smirk.

Aemond's smirk softened into a small smile as you spoke, surprised by not only your honesty but also your insight into his demands. He leaned forward in his chair again, his hands clasping together as he considered your words.

"So, you're telling me you understand my demands, don't mind the late hours, and enjoy having a stable job," he said, his voice almost teasing. He tilted his head slightly, a new gleam in his eye. "And how do you feel about me?"

“What about you, Sir?” your eyebrows furrow with your question.

Aemond leaned back in his chair again, his smirk returning. "Come now, Y/N," he said, his tone slightly amused. "You know what I meant. I'm your boss, after all."

The smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he went on. "I asked you a question. Do I scare you, irritate you, or do you find me tolerable? Be honest."

“To be entirely honest, you do scare me a little bit..” your gaze falls to the floor, your posture straightening with your admission.

Aemond watched you intently, his single eye studying you as you spoke. He could see the slight shift in your body language, the way you stiffened as you answered his question.

"Ah," he said, his voice soft, "So, a little fear. What about the other options? Do I irritate you?"

“Not particularly,” you glance back up at him. “But why are you asking so many questions this morning?”

Aemond let out a small, humorless chuckle, his eye sparkling with amusement. "I'm asking because I want to know," he said, his tone still soft.

He pushed away from his desk and stood, towering over you. He took a step closer to you, closing the small distance between you and the desk. His gaze was unwavering, and you could sense the slightest hint of danger in his voice.

"You're my assistant, after all. I have to ensure you at least tolerate me."

You back up, thighs pressing into the edge of his desk. “R-right, of course.” you take a shaky breath, eyes trained on his face.

Aemond chuckled again, a low, dark sound that echoed in the small space between you. He stepped even closer, until he was practically looming over you, his height and presence filling the room.

His eye flicked down to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breath hitched in your throat. As you pressed further back against the desk, backed into a corner, he took a step forward, his face inches from your own. "Am I making you nervous, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice like a serpent's whisper.

“You’re very close, Sir.” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut in response to his voice.

Aemond didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his body mere inches from your own. He was so close you could feel his breath warm on your skin, his sheer size and presence making you feel suddenly small.

"And does that make you nervous?" he whispered again, his voice like a low rumble. His eye flicked over your face, taking in every twitch and shiver. "Or do you like it?"

“Am I still being honest?” you breathe out, voice barely a whisper. Aemond's smirk widened just a fraction at your question. He took another step forward, his body now pressed almost completely against yours, pinning you against the desk.

"Be brutally honest," he said, his voice low and commanding. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on your hip, his touch burning through the fabric of your skirt. "I want the truth."

You gasp at the feeling of his fingers against you, “A little bit of both, Sir.” you open your eyes, having a sort of deer in headlights expression. Aemond chuckled again, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through you. He tightened his grip on your hip, his fingers digging ever so slightly into your skin, holding you in place.

"A little bit of both," he repeated slowly, letting the words roll off his tongue. He leaned in even closer, his face so close to yours that you could feel the heat from his body. "I... scare and arouse you," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Is that right?"

“S-sir..” you practically moan, drinking in every shred of attention he’s giving you, unsure of how long it'll last.

Aemond's smirk became wider, his eye darkening as he watched you practically squirm in response to his touch. He moved impossibly closer, his body fully pinning you against the desk now, his grip on your hip tight and possessive.

"Ah, that's a lovely sound," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "Say my name, Y/N. I want to hear my name on your lips."

“Mr. Targaryen?” you question, your hand finally moving to touch his firm abdomen.

Aemond's smirk turned into a small smile when you dared to touch him. He took a sharp breath in as your hand made contact with his stomach, his muscles tensing under your touch.

He leaned in, his lips almost touching your ear as he spoke. "No," he growled, his voice low and sultry. "My first name."

“Aemond..” you murmur, body arching into his as his breath brushes your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Aemond, stop teasing me… please.”

Aemond chuckled again, the sound dark and seductive. He liked the way you said his name, the way your body responded to his every touch. He could feel you arch into him, and it took every ounce of restraint he had not to just take you right then and there.

"Oh, Y/N," he whispered, his lips moving ever so closer to your skin. "You're such a mess just from a little teasing. Are you that desperate for my touch?" He guides you to sit on the desk in front of him, his legs going between your own.

You further spread them, giving him space to come even closer. “Sir, please.. Touch me please..” you whine, eyes desperate as you gaze up at him. Aemond watched as you settled on the desk, parting your legs for him without a single command. He leaned in, his body finally pressing against your own, his hands on either side of you, caging you in.

"Impatient, are we?" he smirked, enjoying the way you whine for him. He ran his fingers up your thigh, his touch scorching hot through the thin fabric of your skirt. "So needy.. You're absolutely desperate for me, aren’t you."

“Mhm, so desperate.” you mutter while guiding his hand further up your thigh, desperate for him to touch you right where you need it. “Please touch me Aemond, you're torturing me..”

Aemond groaned as your hand guided his own, his fingers trailing higher, coming closer and closer to the spot where you wanted him most. Your need was almost unbearable for him to witness, and he was fighting to keep his composure, to not let himself just take you right then and there.

"You're the one who's torturing me," he whispered, his voice strained. "The way you moan for me, the way you're desperate for my touch... it's driving me mad."

You let out another soft moan, leaning back on the desk as he finally slips his hand between your thighs.

Aemond's eye darkened with desire as you leaned back on the desk and let out another moan. He gently pushed your thighs apart even more, his fingers slowly dancing over the fabric of your clothes, enjoying the way you squirmed beneath him.

"So eager for me, aren't you? So needy for my touch," he said, his voice low and sultry. "Beg me, Y/N. Beg for me to touch you properly."

“Please, Sir.. touch me properly, please give me what I need.” you whine, become more and more impatient with his teasing. Aemond was enjoying the way you whined and pleaded for him.

Your impatience was only bringing him closer to the edge, making him want to finally give you what you wanted. But he wanted to hear you say it again. "Use my name," he commanded, his voice dark. "Say it again. I want to hear my name when you beg me, Y/N."

“Aemond, I can’t take anymore teasing..” you gasp, feeling his hand trailing up your inner thigh. He took a second to savor the sound of it on your lips, relishing the way it sounded when you begged him for more.

He slid his hand even higher, until his fingers were gently brushing over your most sensitive parts, through the fabric of your clothes. He leaned in, his lips millimeters from your ear.

"You've been a very good girl," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I suppose I'll give you what you want."

"Aemond," you moaned, the sound of his name like a prayer on your lips. You felt his hand move under your skirt, the fabric of your panties the only barrier between his skin and your wetness.

He hooked his finger under the elastic and with a swift motion, he slid them to the side, exposing you completely to his touch. He didn't waste any time, immediately pressing his finger against your entrance, feeling the slick heat of your arousal.

His eyes never left yours as he began to push in, the slow, deliberate movement making you beg for more.

"Please, Aemond," you gasped, your hips rolling in a silent plea for him to fill you completely. He smirked at your desperation, enjoying every second of it.

His finger slid in easily, and he watched your face contort with pleasure as he began to move it in and out, his strokes slow and maddening. Each time he went deeper, you could feel yourself getting wetter, your body begging for more.

He didn't need to be told twice; he added another finger, stretching you out even more, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you fall apart.

The room was filled with the sound of your whimpers and his soft, taunting whispers, the scent of your desire thick in the air. Aemond's own arousal was clear, his pants bulging as he worked you with his hand.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Keep begging for it, Y/N. Tell me how much you need me to fuck you."

Your breath hitched as his fingers hit a spot inside you that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Aemond, I need you," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. "Please, fuck me, I can't wait any longer."

He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers and taking a step back, leaving you trembling on the desk. "Patience," he said, his voice a low command.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down, his erection standing proud and demanding. "You'll get what you want, but only when I say you can."

With that, he stepped closer again, his body pressing against yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel the head of his cock nudging against you, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. "Beg for it," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg for me to take you."

Your body was on fire, your mind a whirlwind of desire. You didn't need to be told twice. "Aemond, please," you begged, your voice desperate and needy. "Take me, I need you inside me."

With a groan of his own, Aemond pushed into you, his cock filling you in one smooth stroke. You cried out, your nails digging into the wood of the desk as he began to move, his hips driving into you with a passion that was almost animalistic.

The friction was exquisite, the feeling of him inside you was everything you had been dreaming of. And so it began, a dance of power and pleasure, where you were both the dominator and the dominated, the hunted and the hunted.

With every thrust, every moan, every desperate plea, the walls of the office seemed to close in around you, until there was nothing but the two of you and the sound of skin on skin.

As Aemond began to move inside you, his hips setting a punishing rhythm, you bit your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your mouth.

You didn't want the rest of the office to hear how completely he owned you, how every stroke of his cock sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. But Aemond noticed your effort to remain quiet, and his smirk grew darker.

"Let them hear you," he said, his voice a low command. "Let them know how much you want this, how much you need me."

You hesitated for a moment, but the need to please him overrode any shred of modesty you had left. You let out a low moan, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment as the sound echoed through the room. Aemond's eye narrowed in approval, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you even harder.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Let it out, scream for me."

And so you did, your moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You could feel the tension in the air around you, the energy of your shared passion almost tangible.

Aemond's movements grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fucked you with an intensity that bordered on feral. The world outside the office door didn't exist anymore, it was just the two of you and the sound of your bodies colliding.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper, faster. The desk creaked under your combined weight, the sound mixing with the wet slap of flesh and the harsh rhythm of your breathing.

And as you felt the beginnings of your climax building, you couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like to truly submit to someone, to be claimed in every sense of the word.

Aemond leaned in, capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss that stole your breath away. His tongue danced with yours as his hips continued their relentless assault, his hand moving to palm your mound, his thumb flicking over your clit. The combination of his touch and the feel of him inside you was too much to handle, and you shattered around him, your orgasm tearing through you like a storm.

He didn't stop, though, driving into you harder and faster, chasing his own release. And when he finally found it, he pulled back, his single eye blazing with victory as he watched you come apart in his arms. The silence that followed was deafening, both of you trying to catch your breath as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your racing hearts, the throb of your bodies, and the knowledge that the office outside had just become a place of secret desire and power games. Aemond leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're mine now, Y/N. Remember that." And with that, he pulled out, leaving you trembling and exposed on the desk, the evidence of your desire for him slick on your thighs.

Aemond leaned back, drinking in the sight of you laid out on the desk before him, your body still trembling and panting after your intense climax. He smiled with satisfaction, enjoying the way your eyes couldn't seem to meet his own, the aftermath of your submission still fresh on your face.

"Do you understand, Y/N?" he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of command. "Do you understand who you belong to? Who you *truly* belong to?"

“Yes.. yes Sir..” you murmur, voice dazed as you try to catch your breath.

Aemond chuckled at your dazed response, enjoying the way you called him "Sir" even now, after everything that had just happened.

He leaned in, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "Good," he said, his voice low and calm. "Because I expect you to remember it from now on. You're mine, Y/N. Body and mind. And I won't tolerate any disrespect, or any attempts to defy me."

You nod, leaning your head to his hand, enjoying the gentleness of his touch. A knock on the door sends a shiver down your spine, you try to stand from the desk but Aemond holds you in place.

Aemond's hand on your hip held you firm in place, preventing you from moving. He glanced towards the door, his expression becoming stoic for a moment.

"Come in." he called out, his voice commanding without betraying any hint of what had just happened. You squirm under his hands, nervously trying to get away.

“Oh uh, here’s the paperwork you needed.” One of your coworkers quickly sets the file on the desk, leaving the room quickly and gently closing the door behind them.

Aemond didn't look away from you as the worker left the room, his eye focused on you like a hawk. He could feel your squirms, your attempt to get away from him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, his grip on you tightened, pinning you in place. He raised an eyebrow at you, his expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Where do you think you're going, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and steady. "I'm not finished with you yet."

@bellasdepressionerascreams

242 notes · View notes